The Christmas Angel
by Hot4Gerry
Summary: Erik never thought to have anyone walk beside him or believe in him. Amanda and Jason believe him to be Santa Claus. Jo knows Erik is no saint but he could be an angel sent just for her. Nothing between them is saintly. Erik/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Jo/23 Jason/6 Amanda/5**

**A/N: This will be a short 12 chapter story so the chapters will be rather long. I hope you will enjoy them and the quick succession of postings for Christmas for this is a Christmas tale. Enjoy.**

**The Christmas Angel**

**Chapter One**

**Santa, Maybe? **_**Erik**_

I am beginning to think I shall perish out here in this Godforsaken prairie. What made me think I would fair any better in this new world they call America? Was not France hell enough for me? At least there everything was familiar. Out here in this cultural wasteland nothing is as it should be. If I wanted to lose myself, what better place than the wide open spaces of Wyoming? Well I am lost alright. Lost and about to die and become part of a frozen wasteland all because I suddenly developed a sense of honor and duty.

The old man, Charlie Grayson, owns the property next to mine. Actually I have looked at the survey papers and found his so called ranch is actually mine. It seems the past owner had a wife with a sister she wished to come live with her. The young lady came out, fell in love with her brother-in-law and the brothers built a house for the newly wedded couple to live in. Strangely neither family produced any offspring and had no other relatives willing to come out here to live so the place was put on the market not knowing the 1000 acres Charlie occupied was passed down by the second brother as a gift for loyal service upon his death as his wife had died a few years earlier. The older brother let things go as he had no need for the land and rather liked Charlie's company when his own wife died. So many years had gone by with no one making a claim on the property Charlie figured he owned it by squatter's rights. His brother-in-law would not begrudge him having those few acres.

If it was only Charlie living there I wouldn't give it a second thought but damned if he didn't inherit a niece over twenty years ago when she was only three. The girl is more boyish than any female should be. She even goes so far to cut her hair as a man does and wears men's clothing. Secretly I think a man's trousers and shirt never looked half as good on anyone I know. If that aggravation was not enough to want to tell Charlie to find other lodging now there are two more irritating people in the mix.

Charlie was a friend, my one and only true friend in the world. Neither of us expected anything from the other and felt comfortable speaking our minds or simply enjoying the quiet together. Madam Giry I counted not so much as a friend but more as a trusted servant. I couldn't let myself care too much for her and her feelings or involve myself in her life too much. Until she brought Christine into the opera house I had kept her at arms length.

I lost her due to my own insane actions whereas Charlie left me not of his own free will. I had dreaded going to Charlie's ever since he died and had stayed away all this time. With the weather getting worse I knew I must make the journey across the mountain to check on things.

His death a month ago left a void in my life, one I did not expect. I have missed Madame Giry and God knows I have mourned Christine's loss but Charlie left a different sort of rift in me. One I don't know how to fill. If I had not promised to make sure his niece and the children came to no harm I would be safe and warm in my own home instead of out here being buried alive under heavily falling snow.

With snow flying around me and cold biting into my cooling flesh this place seems some sort of frozen hell on earth. My damn horse spooked at some sound carried on the wind rearing up and leaving me stranded with a broken leg I am sure. My shoulder may be broken or merely dislocated. On the bright side of things there is no one around to witness my demise or point at me while exclaiming in horror at my face. Well perhaps they wouldn't do that now as much of my face is covered by a thick dark beard. My hair also has grown considerably since I left Paris over a year ago. When I realized I could discard both the mask and wig I had done so jubilantly. That jubilation had only lasted as long as my confidence in my ability to mingle with normal people. As badly as I had wanted to don both devises I had forced myself to persevere and in the end have come to find that most people out here don't care about such things as trying to survive and live their own lives takes up most of their energy. This land is a harsh land but the rewards are unending if one can manage to hang on through the tough times.

Running my hand over the scruffy rough hair I wonder what Christine would think of how I look now. Would she approve since it covers the less attractive side of my face? In the beginning I did continue to adhere to my usual practice of careful grooming. As the days passed with no visitors I began to let nature take its course. Now I look nothing like that poor pathetic man Christine called her Angel of Music. As an Opera Ghost or Phantom of the Opera I might cast a rather frightening shadow. I have filled out with proper nourishment and regular meals. Less time has been spent on my music since I arrived on the continent. I recall the strange looks I got when I requested my piano and all my other instruments be packed and shipped to my new residence New Hope, Wyoming. If I had asked for them to ship animals two by two the clerk at the train station could not have looked any more skeptical.

My beautiful instruments now reside in a six room cabin that sounded much better on paper at the realtor's office. The land, some ten thousand acres is beyond words to describe. If an ex ghost could not lose himself in this vast country then he would be better off digging a hole and climbing in then covering himself back up.

With the cold seeping into my inner core my mind is beginning to fog and repeat thoughts over and over. Again I have come full circle in my thinking and return to cursing Charlie for committing me to caring for three innocent people one of which I find myself attracted to against my will and better judgment. This new found conscience that has raised its ugly head is the cause of my present dilemma.

I never would have guessed Josephine, who prefers to be called Jo, had a motherly bone in her body but apparently even a tomboy can have nurturing tendencies. If I want to rile her all I have to do is toss out a few Josephines and that does the trick. I never saw a female trying so hard to disguise her femininity as she does. Perhaps it stems from living a hard life that requires a harder makeup than most women have or perhaps she had wanted to be the son Charlie never had.

All I know about the children is that some fire in town took the life of Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth and Charlie inherited six year old Jason and five year old Amanda at the insistence of Jo. Nearly six months later no one would know those children had not grown up with Jo and Charlie. They call Charlie grandpa but they do not call Jo mother. I suspect she has spoken with them and come to the agreement they would be brother and sisters rather than mother and offspring.

When I let my guard down that day on the mountain that I met Charlie I had no idea what role he would play in my life. I had been sitting on a log mourning over a stupid rabbit I caught in one of my traps. The point of traps is to catch something and I do need to eat but it is one thing to eat meat prepared and cooked by someone else and quite another to kill it and then do what is necessary to eat the meat.

I suppose being artistically inclined and looking as I do has made me more aware of the pain of others and God's creatures. Charlie came upon me in a weak fit of tears. He caught me off guard in more ways than one. The person I used to be would have had no compunction about killing him for witnessing my shameful display. Surprisingly Charlie had sat on the log with me introducing himself then going into great detail about his first kill. Although he was only a teen barely out of short pants he had cried when the deer he shot let out a terrible cry of pain just as he ran up proudly ready to claim his prize. Looking into those brown eyes filled with agony caused by him had left him feeling somewhat of a murderous monster. I could have told him I know first hand what a murderous monster looks like and he bore no resemblance to one while on the other hand my image would be used as a demonstration for the meaning of murderous monster.

Tenuously at first we would met for a day of hunting and conversation. He showed me a more humane way to dispatch with the smaller creatures which eased my conscience a good deal. When he invited me for dinner one evening I had no reservations about sharing a meal with him. If I had known about Jo at that time I would have declined entering into his home.

I at first thought Jo was just a very feminine looking male until Charlie explained about his niece. She glared deadly daggers at me the whole time as if it were my fault her uncle felt obligated to inform me of every minute detail of her upbringing since she first came to him.

That young woman has a wicked tongue and it is sharp as a knife. She has it at the ready to rip anyone to shreds if they so much as look at her cross-eyed. She and Carlotta would have gotten along famously. The main difference being Carlotta led a less sheltered life and therefore had no claim to innocence whereas Jo's only exposure to the seamier side of man's nature and his lustful nature is the mating of the animals they keep. I can say with complete confidence she does not know how often my lustful gaze has landed on her when she is otherwise occupied. I had thought only Christine would ever invoke such imaginings of my mind but what I dream about Jo is much more passionate and less…refined than how I pictured an encounter with Christine.

Perhaps because Christine is younger I held back giving in to my more lustful demands. I do know that I had only allowed myself daring caresses over her tempting form during those two occasions I held her in my arms. Her two kisses to win Raoul's release on the other hand were charged with pure seduction of my senses and left me completely defenseless against her which is why I let her go with Raoul. She would barter herself to save his life but not because she loved me or wanted me in that way. If I had made her stay I would always have been her second choice, second best. As much as I loved her I couldn't accept her on those terms, the terms set by me while insane from fear of losing her to Raoul. Better to let her go than keep her and live knowing she pined for another's touch and died a slow miserable death without her whole heart. Raoul would carry the larger portion with him if he had left without her and I would have had what remained, a woman dying without her one true love.

Just thinking of Christine has my chest tightening uncomfortably. I curse her even while my heart yearns for her. After over a year's separation these moments of torment have come less often and with less intensity. I no longer have to climb into a bottle to ease my pain. Creativity and the wonders I discover every day on my land keep my mind busy and healthy.

While my mind has been wandering down memory lane me body has been going numb from cold and pain. The pain subsiding should have alarmed me as to what was happening to me but I had let myself give into the euphoric feeling I felt once the cold seemed to lesson and I felt less concerned by my dire circumstances. Even now I have to fight to retain consciousness. As I begin to black out I hear voices that are not clear what with the winds howl and my own disorientation.

I sense someone beside me. They come down to kneel at my side. Something brushes across my face then lower down my body. I want to protest such familiarity but can't seem to open my eyes or mouth. In the end I don't care what happens to me as long as my peace is not disturbed by whoever has come to share this bliss with me.

I hear a conversation going on around me. The voices are familiar but at the moment I cannot place who they belong to.

"He isn't dead is he Jo? What'll we do if Santa died? Who will bring our presents? Who will grant our Christmas wishes?" This voice belongs to a young child, a female child. Briefly a picture of a pixie with blue eyes and blond hair flashes into my mind. I know this sweet child. I think…I believe this is Amanda. Yes, Amanda, but what is she doing out here? Dear God she will die out here. I must do something. As hard as I try I can't move even a finger.

"Silly, you know this isn't Santa. This is Erik. Just crabby old Erik." This voice I also recognize. I think it is Jason. He pauses then continues, "Although with the snow covering his beard he does kinda look like that picture in the Gazette last year. You know the one where he's all in red and white fur? Hmmm. You don't suppose he…he could be Santa in disguise do you Jo?" I could hear the uncertainty in his question.

"Of course not. You both know good and well this is just Erik our neighbor. Looking at him at the moment I'd have to say he's our demented neighbor. What sort of fool comes out on a night like this with a noise shy horse and without a lantern? Believe you me if we weren't looking for the perfect tree we'd not be out either." I can hear the dislike in her voice and if I could speak I'd tell her I am not in need of her concern or assistance. I'll find a way to save myself even if it kills me.

"You know he does sort of look like that picture. Well if he were older, didn't look so nice, and was much, much heavier in girth. No he can't be Santa. He's far too fit and good-looking. He doesn't look grandfatherly in the least." This is Amanda again weighing on the conversation. She is far too bright and outspoken for a child of five.

Feeling hands lifting me up I want to yell at them to be careful of my injuries but oddly I don't feel a thing. Should I not feel terrible pain as I did when first I crashed to the ground? I know I should be worried but can't seem to muster the strength to do so. At least I shall die among friends. Friends? Do I count the owner's of these voices as friends? Some dark corner of my mind tells me that I would like more than friendship with the older female whose voice comforted me even while it brought vague longings for something I have never experienced.

Now I am being yanked and pulled along the ground like a sack of potatoes. If I were in my right mind I would definitely object to this treatment. At the moment I am just grateful to move from that spot lest I become frozen in place. A sudden peace comes over me and my head begins to feel as if it might float away. I can feel the darkness pulling me deeper into the abyss of unconsciousness. As I let myself drift along on this stream of unfettered dreams I wonder vaguely if I shall awake from this dream. Would my death be a loss to anyone? Probably not. Would Madam Giry cry for me? Would Christine? I daresay not a soul will stand by my graveside and shed so much as a drop over my demise. All those I left behind in the wake of my destruction at L'Opéra Populaire would rejoice to learn I died a lonely death in a frozen wasteland far from home. Had the opera house ever truly been a home?

Hands now are gently pulling me upward onto a solid flat surface covered in what I believe are either bear skins or buffalo hides. The warmth brings a sting to my skin I would not have expected. Before I lose consciousness I hear her sweet words whispering in my ear, "Don't you dare die on me Erik. Uncle Charlie would have my hide for not going to see you sooner. If I had you wouldn't have been coming to pay us a visit. And don't you dare deny you were coming to our place. Where else would you be going in such weather?" She drifted into silence to tug on me some more then tucked more covers around me. I felt two bodies slid next to me. Being slight of build I suppose they are the younger members of my rescue party.

I feel the warm slide of a bared palm caress the side of my face then more whispered words, "I won't let you die Erik. If you died I don't think I'd want to go on. Whether you know it or not I need you and for certain you need me and the children. We'll make you see how well we fit together. I do think fate brought us to this point. I can predict a very long recovery for you at our place. We shall get to know one another very well over the next few months. Just lie back and enjoy the ride. We are taking you home or rather to our home."

I wanted to dispute what I heard but couldn't speak. Really my objections would only be a form of self-protection to fend off those who could hurt me. I should have kept Christine miles away from me. If I had I would still be living a quiet somewhat boring life under the opera house. Is that what I want? Maybe this life I am forging isn't… That is where all thoughts on the matter ended until much later.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The second day of Christmas I give to you one more chapter no turtle doves and not one single partridge in a pear tree. Enjoy and review. **

**Chapter Two**

**Saving an Angel **

This trip back to the house is much more arduous than the one heading out. For one thing our worries about Erik keep us from feeling the happiness we had while searching for the perfect Christmas tree. I cannot say how glad I am to have found Erik when we did. Much longer and it would have been too late to have a hope of saving him. As it is he is still in danger of catching a chill, one I have no medicine to treat. Not being able to thoroughly examine him I cannot readily see if he has frost bite on his fingers or toes.

Once he is better I am going to give him a tongue lashing from which he may not recover. Stupid stubborn man. I know why he came out on such a nasty night but still he could have waited until the weather cleared. It is just like him to challenge everything around him including Mother Nature. He has a tremendous chip on his shoulder and does not trust easily. The day I met him he looked like a bear with a thorn in his paw. He had nothing kind to say about me or anything else other than he appreciated Uncle Charlie showing him how to trap and cure the skins.

Where he learned how to do such fine stitching is a mystery I hope to solve one day. I have hinted that I wouldn't mind having one of those soft deerskin tunics he has made. He pretends he doesn't hear me but I know he does because whenever I say his name his shoulders get all stiff and his whole body takes on the pose of a man ready to charge an opponent. To date his attacks have been verbal. Nothing about me apparently suits him. I am too outspoken, too confident, compete in a man's world, bare no resemblance to my gender or show any refinement at all. Heaven forgive me for not being able to sing other than a pleasant go to sleep lullaby or a church hymn slightly out of tune. He even has the nerve to tell me my voice grates on his ears so badly he'd like to plug them in self-preservation. He dislikes me, alright I get that but why must he go out of his way to make a point of criticizing me every time we meet? Uncle Charlie believes it is Erik's way of keeping people at bay to find fault with everyone so he has an excuse not to let them close to him. I could have pointed out to Uncle Charlie that Erik didn't mind getting close to him but I didn't. Apparantly it is only me and Jason and Amanda he finds irritating and objectionable.

Any lacking in my manners has been because out here we don't stand on ceremony too often. I eat with a fork, spoon and knife. My food is placed on a plate and I drink out of a glass or cup. I may not bathe for an hour at a time in perfumed soapy water but I do manage to wash regularly and wear clean clothing. My one concession to femininity is the lilac scented soaps I use. Taking care of animals is a dirty business at times. Let me see him toss hay into a stall, muck them out and care for all the various animals in a dress and then he can comment on my lack of womanly attributes and dressing habits.

I should hate the man passionately but I don't. Contrarily my feelings for him are complicated. At first I thought I did hate him and for that reason went out of my way to do what I could to draw his attention to me just so he would know how much I detested him. The day he grabbed my shoulders intending to deliver a hard shack to me was the day my true feelings were revealed to me. My heart had thundered in my chest and my mouth had gone dry. Not for anything could I take my eyes away from the sheer magnificence of his face in that moment when his nostrils flared and his eyes burned with something other than contempt. My lips felt as if they caught fire when his gaze dropped down to my mouth. Perhaps I imagined his head leaning down to mine as at the last second when I closed my eyes his hands gripped me even tighter then with an under his breath curse he shoved me away from him. He turned from me where I lay on the ground stunned by his action. He did not even pause in his stride when I called after him and told him I hated him more than anyone or anything in the world. Of course even as I said the words I knew I lied.

Uncle Charlie coming out of the barn had shaken his head in disgust as he helped me to my feet. He mumbled something about fools and denials and some things I preferred not to hear so I shut them out. I wasn't quite ready to admit just how much it hurt me that Erik did not care if he hurt me or not. He never apologized or asked if I had been hurt in the fall. The only thing that got hurt I suppose was my pride. After that I went out of my way to rile him in any way I could just as he irritated me by calling me Josephine knowing perfectly well I hate my given name. The name Josephine has not fit me as a name should. A name should feel like a comfortable coat one owns. My name to me felt like a prickly cactus, not comfortable at all.

I hear Erik moan so I stop the horse to go check on him. The horse belonged to Erik. That is how I came to know we should look for him. His horse came upon us as we were discussing which tree to cut. At least now we won't have to trudge back pulling this heavy sled and instead of a tree we are bringing home a man. Uncle Charlie would have something caustic to say about that then plotted how to get Erik and I together. He knew how I felt about Erik long before I did. For a man living alone for so long he knew how to read people better than anyone I know. Uncle Charlie liked and trusted Erik so I knew I could too.

Bending down I checked Erik's pulse. It seemed steady enough. He didn't feel feverish yet in fact he felt rather clammy and cold. This close I could see and feel his shivering. When he starts to speak about some woman I stop to listen intently. Erik opens his eyes and looks at me but I don't think it is me that he is seeing.

"Christine. Please don't leave me. Stay with me. I love you. Stay with your Angel of Music. Love me as I love you."

Well this is certainly not something I am prepared to hear or want to listen to. If it would not set a bad example for the children I would dump him in a snow bank and let nature tend to him until the spring thaw. I cannot help the jealousy boiling up inside of me. I don't even have a rival present that I can take my anger out on, not that it would be her fault if Erik loves her and not me. That admission does nothing to sooth my anger. Angrily I stand and toss the hides up over his face. Nearly ready to take the reins I huff out a gust of air that freezes as it hits the cold. I can't let Erik smother just because he called out some other woman's name and declared his love for her. No matter how hard I try not to let it matter it does matter that while delirious he did not call out for me but another woman. I am the one who will be taking care of him. Will this other woman give a damn if he dies? As he has not had one single letter from anyone I doubt she pines for him as he apparently does for her.

"Jo is Santa going to die? I don't want him to die. I'll even give up all my presents if he will live. I sorta like him even when he isn't being Santa Claus," Amanda said with fervency.

"No I don't think he's going to die and he isn't Santa Claus. I told you that already. Now both of you scoot closer to him and put your arms across his stomach. He needs the extra warmth." Against my inclination to dump him in the snow I forced my feet to the front of the sled.

I followed the markers that I had tied to various branches just in case the snow had got worse and we had trouble getting back. Uncle Charlie was a great one for being prepared for every contingency. Raising me from the age of three until the day he died I suppose he had needed to change his careless bachelor ways when a confused little girl arrived on the morning train, one that cried for a solid two days for her mother. I have to say Uncle Charlie showed more patience with me than I had a right to expect. I rebelled often in my younger days. I bemoaned the fact that I was a girl and therefore of little use to anyone. Well he would have none of that. He told me I could do whatever I set my mind to do. The brain worked pretty much the same whether female or male when it came to intelligence. Emotionally he thought women and men were miles apart. Being female I had to say I agreed with Uncle Charlie up to a point. Women were not so crippled by the stigma of being unmanly if one showed emotions openly which is why most men would rather die a horrible death than let another witness them in a weak moment of tears. I had long believed that a man who shed tears over tender emotions would be a man I should like to meet and get to know. At times I saw such a man in Erik.

He didn't display those moments of tenderness with people but animals on the other hand he would openly show affection. He tried hard to relate to Jason and Amanda but even I could see he had no experience with children. From what little Uncle Charlie had been willing to impart to me concerning Erik, I believe Erik only recently had come in direct contact with people in a one to one fashion other than the most rudimentary connections, such as the provision of necessities. The scaring on his face I assume goes further than what shows outside the beard's whiskers. The way he lets his hair hang long down that side of his head leads me to believe more scarring is located on his scalp.

Erik is a very attractive man with dark almost black hair and intense green eyes. When I look into those eyes I feel as if I am in the crossbow's sights. I am unable to move until he releases me or someone comes unwittingly to my rescue. Being French he speaks in tones that slide over me like silk. His voice warms me from the inside out. Mr. Erik Delacroix is one dangerous man.

Through the heavy snow I can see the shimmering light of the lanterns I have left burning in the windows. I had hoped to be back long before dark but on the off chance that we weren't I left the lamps burning with a low flame just as Uncle Charlie had taught me. Stopping the sled at the bottom of the stairs I yell over the noise of the wind, "Jason take Erik's horse and bed him down in the barn. Give him some fresh hay and a little feed and water. Remember, keep your hands on the rope from here to the barn then follow it back to the house when you are finished. I don't want you getting lost in this weather."

I can hear the indignation in his voice as he puts his hands on his hips and juts his chin out aggressively to protest, "I am not a baby. I can take care of myself. I don't need you to remind me what to do. I am six not five!"

"Continue to take that tone with me young man and you'll not be sitting down to eat your dinner." When I hear a giggle from Amanda I turn to her and reprimand, "And you young lady will help me get Erik up the stairs and into bed."

Having let them both know I will not stand for any nonsense right now we set about our assigned tasks. If Erik's horse had not needed to be put up out of the weather I'd have had Jason helping us get Erik up the porch steps, across the few feet of living area just inside the door and then up the steps to Uncle Charlie's old room. For this part of the journey I suspect Erik is better off not knowing anything. Not being able to carry him Amanda and I tugged, rolled and pulled him all the way until we finally got him into the bedroom, an arduous task that took more time than one would think it should.

My back felt as if I had been bent over picking beans for hours. Poor Amanda rubbed her arms to ease the ache I am sure she is feeling. Even though she carried Erik's feet most of the time his large feet with sturdy leather boots must fell like a ton to a slight girl like her. Even I feel winded and perspiration is dripping unbecomingly over my face to say nothing of the places no one likes to mention or think about. With my hands resting on my hips I inhale some much needed air. When I first met Erik he seemed underweight for his great height. Over time he has filled out nicely in all the right places. He isn't fat but muscle and bone covering such a large frame make him a fine figure of manhood.

"Are we gonna leave him on the floor? I don't think I can help much to put him on the bed. I knew Santa Claus was supposed to be a jolly sort of fat man but Erik sure is heavier than one would imagine. No wonder he has to have so many reindeer to pull his sleigh. Maybe someone should sort of hint he might want to cut back on the cookies."

"Oh glory be Amanda how many times…oh never mind. You'll think what you want no matter what I say. If you want to believe he's Santa Claus I suppose there's no harm in it. Just don't expect him to be coming down our chimney on Christmas Eve. As for putting him to bed I think we better wait for Jason. Between the three of us we should be able to lift him up."

Amanda plopped on the floor and I went to put some kindling in the fireplace to start a fire. The room had a distinct chill as no one came in here on a daily basis. I only come in once in a while to dust and pat the blankets on the bed to free them of dust.

Jason being of the male gender thought he knew more about how to shift a heavy bundle from one place to another better than any womenfolk. Knowing how sensitive males could be I let him think he had control. Subtlety on my part allowed things to get done while letting Jason feel his manhood was intact. This slightly overbearing attitude had only emerged in Jason after Uncle Charlie's death. At least Amanda and Jason had the benefit of the man's values and wisdom before he died.

"Jason I'll get Erik settled in here while you tend the fire downstairs. Amanda you put the kettle on the stove in the kitchen and mind you don't get to close lest you burn yourself. After I have him settled I'll stoke the fire in the washroom and put a bucket of water on to heat. Hot water bottles and a few warmed bricks should bring his body temperature up nicely. Does that plan sound right to you Jason? Have I missed anything?"

I watched as he patted his chin with his finger while he pretended to go over all I said. We both knew his consent was really a formality but it made him feel better to be consulted about the important matters. "Well other than how you intend to get his boots and clothes off I suppose everything is covered."

Glancing at Erik's now still form lying on the bed my mind sent me flashes of pictures it would be better not to think about. Feeling my face begin to burn I quickly shooed them out the door and closed it behind them in relief. This would take me a couple of minutes to absorb and come to terms with. I couldn't in good conscience leave him much longer all wet and cold. That leg would need to be set and there could be other broken bones and injuries I hadn't seen yet.

Now that I am alone I am even less sure about how to proceed. For the first time I am alone in a bedroom with a man not related to me and of an age that he is still likely to be very virile and have manly urges and desires. Heat washing over my cheeks reminds me that my own desires are not so pure. Stepping closer to the bed it now feels like I am approaching a den filled with venomous snakes rather than a man lying out cold on a bed. Stretching out my hands I allow them to hover uncertainly over Erik's chest. Perhaps his boots had better come first. Glad to take my focus anywhere but his broad chest I examine how best to remove the boots without causing undo damage to a leg already broken and likely to hurt like blue blazes when he wakes up. If he was surly before he'll be even more like the bear with the sore paw I like to compare him with.

Well I can't put off touching him any longer. Climbing on the bed I straddle him with my backside facing him. Good thing he is not awake as I can imagine the caustic things he'd have to say about this predicament we are in. I first lift his foot to tug at the boot. Even without being awake Erik still groans with pain as I tug on the first boot. This one will be the hardest because it is the leg that is broken. I know it is broken because of the odd angle he fell with it twisted at an angle no leg was meant to bend into. The second boot is much easier than the first. Now for the really hard part, I have to remove his clothing so I can assess the damage and clean him up. Fresh clothing will have to be put back on him in case the fire dies out. That can come later on I suppose. I know I'll be spending the night in here but if I should fall asleep and not wake to tend the fire we'll both be feeling the cold before morning.

One button after another reveals a thick undershirt that oddly seems more erotic than bared flesh would have been or maybe not as I reveal Erik's muscled chest when I tug the undershirt over his head. Lord but he is beautiful. Men wouldn't likely take kindly to being referred to as beautiful but that's the word that came to mind when I began to reveal the perfect sculpture that is Erik's chest. The fine sprinkling of dark hair just begs to be petted. Some inner less circumspect part of me is raising her hand and shouting _"I'll touch him, I'll touch him. Please let me touch him."_

Without realizing what I have done I find my hands behind my back. This is ridiculous. The man is ill and I am thinking of…well I'm thinking not very clearly at the moment. Where did this wicked part of me come from and had she only shown up when I pictured Erik stark staring naked? Logically his clothing would have to come off. He would be exposed, all of him would be exposed. Of necessity I'd have to look. I couldn't very well tend to him while my eyes were closed. The disturbing picture of me running my hands over Erik's nakedness with my eyes closed did strange things to my breathing. I could feel my heart beginning to pound. Maybe I had some heart ailment I was unaware of. Or maybe I had suddenly turned into some lust crazed woman after being deprived of male companionship in the courting sense like other young women my age. For dang sure most women my age were married and had several children running around under their feet.

Enough of this wool gathering. I have other things to do tonight besides daydream like some besotted young school girl. Having scolded myself sufficiently I began to undo the buttons of his trousers after undoing his fine leather belt. I do believe this is one Erik made himself. He had engraved pictures of angels and other heavenly representation into the leather. I know he is a musician of some great talent as well as many other things. Why a well rounded man like Erik would hide his talent away in the wild frontier did not make sense to me. Most men with far less going for them prospered in the big cities. Erik didn't even run cattle or horses on his land even though Uncle Charlie had offered to lend him a helping hand to stock the place and hire the best cowhands. Erik said he didn't need the income or the aggravation. He just wanted peace and quiet. Well he certainly had come to the right place. A body could go for months and not see another soul if they were of a mind to avoid society.

Even trying to occupy my mind with Erik and his strange life could not keep my eyes from memorizing every detail I uncovered as I removed Erik's clothing. Honestly I did try not to look at the part of men they are most proud of and the part they usually use to define how manly they are. I had been around plainspoken men for much of my life and I have to say Erik nearly took my breath away when I couldn't help but sneak a peek. In my defense I have to say I did grab for the covers as quickly as I could so that he was modestly hidden from my lecherous eyes. I could hardly wait until I had to bathe him. I'd likely cause the water to evaporate into steam what with the heat looking at Erik's magnificent form generated in me. Being an older woman and never having had a man kiss me or do any of the hundred and one things I have read and heard about I think accounts for my overeager manner toward Erik at the moment.

I put the bucket on the small stove in the washroom. We had always intended to install a flushing toilet and a tub with hot and cold running water but somehow other things had seemed more important, such as getting by from one winter to another without going bankrupt. For now there was a whiskey barrel that had piped water coming from the well. I kept it filled all the time. That way if we couldn't get outside we'd still have water for a few days. I did the same thing for the barn only the barrel was buried and I had a pump connected to it. So far it had never frozen.

The small washroom had its own little stove to keep it warm. A large bucket of water was put on periodically throughout the day to use for cleaning and cooking. Later in the evenings we bathed. Just because we lived in the wilds I would not let Jason or Amanda become heathens. We bathe daily and brush our teeth. It hasn't slipped my notice that Erik has exceptional hygienic habits as well. Whatever he uses in his bath would certainly sell like hot cakes in the Yukon if he ever decided to market it. Uncle Charlie told me Erik is somewhat of an inventor and that knack for creativity he has extends to the creation of toiletries, soaps and perfumes. He mentioned that Erik had bought a factory back in New York and sends packages and top secret pouches on the mail train.

He sure has worked wonders with that old cabin. A lot of townsfolk laughed when he ordered glass to build a greenhouse. They stopped laughing when he had fresh strawberries and vegetables all year round as well as the most fabulous roses. He has a knack for creating new hybrids. Again I can't help but admire what a genius the man is yet he doesn't seek notoriety like most people would.

The water boiling out of the bucket draws me from my mental listing of all of Erik's stellar qualities. Catching a look of myself in the mirror my hand goes up to run over the short strands of hair covering my head. Only since admitting how Erik affects me have I regretted cutting my hair. My clothes are not feminine in the least. Turning sideways I have to admit I do have a nice figure. Lot of good it does me with no one to take notice of it. All Erik ever seems to notice is the bad things about me that somehow irritate him without my even knowing I am doing it.

The next hour my resolve to treat Erik only as a sick patient is put to the test once I have his leg set and a splint nestled firmly in place. His shoulder also needs to be immobilized as it is strained but not broken. The bruising will last for weeks. Once I begin washing him my mind has trouble keeping focused on the task at hand. At times my movement across his chest all but stops completely as my fascination with his flesh distracts me from my task. When it comes to washing his private parts I lift the cover and slide my hand underneath the blanket. I have seen him already but if I were in his place I would hate to think the person taking care of me looked more than necessary just to satisfy their own lecherous needs.

The next few days are going to be a trial by fire for me. Not only will I need the patience of Job to deal with Erik once he returns to his old disagreeable self but I will have to fight against my feelings for him. The way he said that woman's name earlier tells me he feels something deep and lasting for her. What I wouldn't give to have Erik or any other man feel that way about me. I don't suppose it will ever happen though as my mirror tells me I am not what men look for in their mate and anyway the life of seclusion this vast land enforces upon us is not conducive to meeting people on a regular basis. I am lucky to make the once a month trip to town for supplies or an occasional Sunday go to meetin at the church.

Lord give me the strength not to make too big a fool of myself and let me tend to Erik as a nurse and not as a ravenous man deprived backwoods woman.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry folks for the late posting. I had to edit this chapter before I put it up. I only started this a couple of days before I got the first chapter up. I am working on chaper seven now. Hopefully I'll have the twelfth to put up on Christmas Day. This is my second anual 12 days of Christmas story. Enjoy.**

**Chapter Three**

**In Dreams She Came to Me**_** Erik**_

I am in and out of consciousness I know as some things are more real than others. When I am with Christine it seems so real but logically I know it cannot be true. I much prefer the dream world to reality just now. For one thing Jo is tending to me and I have a sense that I am naked beneath the warm blankets covering me at least for the first day or so. I cannot tell one day from the next as delirium clouds my thoughts from time to time. I am feverish too.

Jo speaks soothingly to me muttering nonsense, at least to me it makes no sense. It doesn't really matter as it is the tone that comforts me and not what she might say. If my mind wasn't in such a fog and I had more strength than a pup I'd protest her taking care of me. I'd rather die than have someone, especially a woman seeing things no one but me has seen and doing things to me that in any other circumstances I would enjoy if it were anyone but Jo. I am sound of mind enough to know this makes no sense but that is how I feel.

Occasionally I hear humming and at these times I believe Christine is back with me. I cannot control my dreams or what I believe in moments of delirium. I have moments of clarity when I know it is Jo and not Christine tending to me. While her voice is pleasant and soothing to the ear she does not have Christine's trained angelic instrument that I gave her. I know I am speaking out of turn at times and try to control what I say but at times the lines between dreams and reality become blurred.

Warm spoonfuls of soup are constantly being poured into my mouth as well as small amounts of water. I am grateful for the flavorful soup that warms me from the inside out. I cannot seem to stave off the constant shivering even though I feel the perspiration coating my body. Jo, I suppose it is Jo, wipes a cool rag over me then dries me with a rough towel. The vigorous rubbing helps to stimulate my blood flow and aids in the warming process. Despite my usual reluctance to let anyone close enough to see what I hide beneath my beard and shaggy hair there are times when I know Jo is touching me and looking at the shame I try to keep hidden. I'll not have one iota of privacy left after this. She'll likely know as much about me as I do, from a physical standpoint at least.

Coming around today I feel the urgent need to use the facilities. With a broken leg and my shoulder trussed up tightly against my chest I may have been still able to make it to the toilet but feeling so weak I know it is inevitable I will have to ask Jo to help me. Young Jason is far too small to support my weight or to be of any use as I am considerably taller than he is. Unless I want to add further humiliation I must swallow my pride and ask for assistance while I am still conscious to take care of personal matters. If I pass out I'll not be able to control my bodily functions and if that happens I'll crawl out of this house along the floor if need be rather than face Jo or anyone else after that sort of disgrace.

"Jo." Is that pitiful mewling coming from me? Me the once powerful and feared Phantom? Those men in the opera house would fall to their knees laughing if they could see and hear me now. Again I regret letting my conscience rule my better judgment. I should have stayed in my own home and left Jo and those children to their fate. Now I am the one paying the price for my show of concern. Charlie did me a great disservice when he wheedled that promise from me in a feeble minded moment.

I can hear the creaking of the door and soft footsteps crossing the floor followed by a hand laid across my forehead. I can tell by the delicate scent of lilacs that this is Jo. Her hands are callused from all the menial labor she must do to run this ranch. Christine's hands were always as soft as the petals on the roses I gave to her. She smelled of rose water too. I think I had a hand in her choice as when she turned thirteen I gave her some grownup bath salts with a hint of fragrant roses. Perhaps she had continued to use that same fragrance to please her Angel of Music.

The dreams I have had lately are not all pleasant. For years I manipulated Christine's fragile mind. Her loneliness and mine were what drew us together in the first place and what kept me coming back to her time and time again until one day she mo longer looked like a child but a very attractive woman. My heart was lost in that moment. Inevitable calamity ensued once Raoul came into the picture. In my dreams I relive those last moments she and I spent together. My heart takes a beating with every replaying of the same scenes. Jo oddly has been interspersed into some of my more resent nightly visits from my past. I dare not examine what this means too closely lest I let my imagination run away with me yet again.

"Erik, are you awake? I heard you call out. Are you in pain?"

To counteract any tender feelings insisting on working their way into my heart I say nastily as I shove her hand away, "Well I'd be much better if you did not constantly rub your hands over me. Your skin leaves a lot to be desired. I have used sandpaper that is softer than the palms of your hands." My words strike home I can see as she pulls away from me and places the offending appendages behind her back. Hurt darkens her eyes and I am sure there is the glint of a tear at the corner of her eye. God all I need is for her to burst out crying to make me feel even more of mean spirited jackass than I already do.

When her shoulders straighten and her hands come to rest on her hips I know pride has been dredged up to save face. She'll blast me to hell one of these days after one of my tirades I am sure and I will be deserving of such a fate. Only I would pluck the wings from a delicate butterfly. For all her outer show of hard unfeminine attitude Jo I suspect is very much a lady under all that gruff exterior. Heaven help the poor soul she one day will unleash her battery of feminine wiles upon for he will be helpless under her attack. Whenever I look too long into her eyes I feel myself being pulled in and fear drowning in those wide blue pools. Not a bad way to die but I resist giving in to that folly.

"You ungrateful swine. Of all the jackasses I could have found to rescue the one I find is you. I should have left you to die out there in the cold. You could be buried under several feet of frozen snow that is likely warmer than your cold heart and less frosty than your tongue." I could not miss the blush that suffused her face as her eyes dropped to my mouth. I wonder what thoughts were running through her head to cause such a look. Surely nothing positive as nothing about me has ever elicited any positive reaction only fear and loathing, with the exceptions of Madame Giry and Charlie and at times Christine although those times were during encounters when she only heard my voice and not seen my face. Once she did see my face all the fear and loathing were there for me to see.

"Mademoiselle did you just insinuate I am a pig?" Indignation had me speaking in a combination of French and English. Perplexity covered her face for only a few seconds as she worked out what I had said.

"I insinuated nothing. I outright called you a swine which is a polite way of saying pig I suppose and don't forget I also called you an ass. Imagine being related to two of God's poor lowly creatures."

If I wasn't feeling like death warmed over I'd give her a lesson in humility she would not soon forget. As it is my situation bordered on desperate.

"I need to use the facilities." I refused to look her in the eye and unman myself before her any more than I already have.

"The facilities?" she asked as if that were a foreign word.

"Yes you know…the…the toilet." Now I could feel my own face heating with color. Damn insensitive woman. Why could I not have been rescued by anyone but her?

She shuffled her feet casting glances around as if to find some ingenious way out of this predicament in the room's furnishings. Ruffling her hair so that it spiked out in an intriguing way she at last turned to look back down at me. She must have come to some conclusion for she shrugged slightly then whipped the covers aside which shocked me for a few seconds. Without needing to think my hands drew in front of my manhood protectively not that I thought she would do anything to hurt me in that area but because I am still stark naked. She could have given me some warning, something to preserve my dignity.

"What the hell are you about woman? Place that damn blanket back over me at once. At once I say." She smiles wickedly like a cat at the cream.

"Why Erik, you aren't shy are you? Have you forgotten in your illness that it is I who has been caring for you and it was I who removed your clothing as well as tending to your fever?"

I shall think long and hard just how I will repay this unfeeling wench. Her humiliation shall be ten times what I am suffering. I shall show no mercy. I'll not be bested by a slip of a girl. Trying for calm unconcern I remove my hands and place my arms at my sides. Looking straight up to the ceiling I wait for what she will say to this bold move on my part. When nothing is forthcoming I can feel uncertainty setting in. Why has she not called me everything foul in the world? Chancing a look in her direction I find it is not the charms at the lower part of my body which have made her speechless. The wretched girl is staring at my face as if seeing it for the first time. I'd rather have her ogle my manhood and leave the rest of me an unexplored mystery. Since she has seen me many times that is only wishful thinking. I can't imagine what she finds so fascinating about my face, as if I didn't know.

She swallows loudly then stammers out in an uncharacteristically shy voice, "I'll…just give me a minute. I…I think you should put something on. I…I think some of Uncle Charlie's trousers and shirts are in the wardrobe. I…I'll see what I can find." Before she backs up a few paces she reaches out and pulls the blanket back over me for which I am grateful although it is a little like closing the barn door after the animals have already escaped.

Watching her rummage around inside the wardrobe gives me time to recover some of my composure. In the old days I wouldn't have let anyone see any part of me unless I wished to frighten them. Have I now been relegated to the ordinary? I find it surprisingly acceptable that Jo sees me not as some horror from her nightmares but as a rather difficult man to relate to. I think it is far better to be thought of as a curmudgeon than a monstrous demon. I can say with honesty that not once can I remember Charlie or Jo for that matter, looking on me as anything other than a man. Everyone at the opera house thought I was some disgruntled long dead ghost come to seek revenge on humankind or the dark and dangerous Phantom demanding the opera be run his way and his demands be met. I much prefer my humanity. Even Madame Giry displayed fear of me at times. I never would have hurt her intentionally but sometimes my temper got away from me and I could not control my actions. I still have trouble with that at times but I am coping better with that darker part of me.

Jo turns toward me with the garments she intends for me to wear clutched to her chest. I suppose it has now dawned on her that it will be necessary for her to touch me and be rather close to me in order to put the clothes on. I can't say I am eager for this any more than she is. Touching by others has always been a rather painful experience for me in the past. I have felt more pain by the hands of others than I care to remember. I can't help but recall how gentle Jo's hands had been when exploring my face and body searching to see the extent of my wounds and later as she tended to me while I was overtaken with delirium. If I recall things properly it had been pleasant to have her touching me even though her skin is roughened from toiling daily to survive in this harsh land.

Putting the bundle of clothing down on the bedside she straightens and says, "Well now." Nothing more is forthcoming so I look at her expectantly. If she expects me to make this easy for her she is sadly mistaken. If I am to suffer this indignity someone will pay and Jo is the only one available to me. I have always been one who protected my independence by extreme measures. Needing someone only led to disappointment in my experience. For that reason I think is why I would not let Madame Giry become anything more than a paid servant, someone I did not need exclusively as she could be replaced by any number of people willing to keep my secrets for a price. Only Christine had broken through my barriers and in the end devastated me by leaving me alone and unloved. Leaving myself open to such agony again is not something I am willing to do and therefore no one shall ever enter into my closely guarded heart again.

"Well I suppose we need to first put the trousers on over your feet then I can help you to sit up. If you sort of wiggle from side to side I think the trousers will go on over your hips. I have scissors downstairs to cut the trouser leg so I can have access to tend to you. The shirt will then be the easy part of this venture. If at any time you feel faint let me know and we can stop."

Stop? The pressure I feel building in my bladder is not conducive to stopping. I am hoping we can speed this up before I do something completely embarrassing for an adult. My leg is throbbing and I anticipate more of the same only slightly worse once I begin to move.

"I have some of Uncle Charlie's home brew if you think it would dull the pain." Now she has sympathy. Where was all this concern earlier when I had to bare my all in front of her? I recall the one and only time I accepted a cup of Charlie's rotgut whisky. I believe I still have residual burning in my stomach from that hellish liquid. If I take a sip of that firewater again I'll likely die or go blind. In my present state anything might happen. I'll need all my wits to manage to sit upright and not pass out.

"I think I will pass thank you. I have no wish to meet my maker any time soon." At times I have been willing to die even prayed for death to take me. As a child locked in a cage with no hope of rescue I had often prayed not to wake so that I might live in my dreams forever. When I lost Christine death had seemed a better proposition than carrying on without my angel to comfort me for that is what she had been to me, a comfort. More than a potential lover I had wanted her comforting presence and purity of voice to take me to places in my imagination I would never reach in reality.

When Jo leans down to put her arms around me I know this is not going to be as easy as I imagined to ignore her femininity even dressed in attire a young boy would wear. If she must dress as a man at least could she not wear a size a man required rather than the tight fitting clothes she has chosen? Burying my nose in her chest when she smells of fresh spring lilacs would at any other time be welcome but not in my present state of undress where my reaction to her closeness will be obvious even to an inexperienced person. One would think a man with a broken leg, his arm trussed up in a sling and pain nearly bringing him to tears would preclude having any desirous reactions to a womanly form so close to him.

I welcome the pain shooting up my leg and shoulder to counteract the reaction my manhood is having to Jo's closeness to me. All I need to make a complete fool of myself is to lose control of my bodily functions. It seemed like an overly long journey from lying flat to sitting on the side of the bed with my leg sticking straight out. I want to push her angrily away but to do so would have me falling flat on my face. Anger isn't the overpowering emotion I am feeling anyway. It doesn't help when she leans down to look into my face and ask if I am able to sit by myself or will I need her aid when I use the bean pot.

I am sure I have misheard her. I will not suffer that indignity whatever she has planned. I will make it to the washroom or die enroute to the facility. To use the pot she'd have to stay here then…no, I will not stand for it.

"I will be going downstairs." I put as much conviction in my words as I can muster. I put on the face I used to use when I wanted to frighten those of the opera house into submission. Unfortunately I must not have my full capacity for terror as she merely gives me a sympathetic look that I am sure is false.

"Erik it took me and Amanda the better part of an hour to get you up those stairs. In your weakened condition you could fall down and do further damage. I have enough to contend with at the moment thank you very much, so you will use the pot or…" She left the rest of her sentence hang in the air for me to finish mentally. I have a sense she is enjoying my incapacitation far too much.

As my head starts to whirl and the room begins to spin I feel I must reluctantly give in. Much longer sitting here like this and I shall be on the floor then have to listen to Jo gloat about being right. I'll not give her the satisfaction. To ease my manly pride I tell myself I am making this choice only to depriver her of further enjoyment at my expense. This subterfuge works for me. Handing me the pot with a smile I wish to remove from her face Jo then turns her back. Now I understand why she did not button the trousers. She knew very well I would not be walking anywhere.

"I insist you leave me for a few minutes. I can manage this part on my own if you please."

"But what if you should begin to feel faint or…" My growl stops her words which have far too much happiness in them to be sympathetic. I do believe she is taking far too much pleasure in this situation.

"Out! Now! Or I shall not be responsible for what happens." What I could do at the moment is yell at her in my most fearsome voice. I am certain I hear a giggle from her just as she closes the door behind her. The insolent wench will pay. I shall have plenty of time to plot her comeuppance. I will glory in her defeat as I grind her pride in the dust.

The relief I feel to empty out my bladder is beyond any expression other than a heartfelt sigh. I don't even think I care if she hears what must take place, maybe later, but not now. Any noise made does not register with me as I am utterly relieved to have not given that little vixen something more to hold over me and use to unman me.

The door creaking open has me scrambling to fasten the buttons on my trousers. I can't seem to coordinate the buttons and button holes while sitting down. With an angry huff I at last give up. I am covered adequately. She can see nothing, besides what does it matter? She has seen all of me. What is left? This situation will repeat itself over any number of days until I can stand on my own two feet so I may as well conduct myself with as much dignity as I can muster. It isn't as if I am the only person to ever have need to release the body's pent up by-products.

Having come to a decision to make this as easy for the both of us this time I do not hesitate to avail myself of her help getting back into bed. I don't even say so much as one word to complain when she fastens the buttons of the trousers then buckles my belt. Inconsequentially I wonder why she thinks I need a belt. It isn't as if the damn trousers are going anywhere.

I find it oddly comforting to have her tucking me in as she would the children. I don't even mind so much when she touches my forehead. All this compliance must be brought about because I am feeling drained and drifting off to sleep. Once I am more alert and felling like my old self I will have more to say about just how despicable I think it is to gloat and take pleasure in a man's incapacitation in such a spiteful way. Yes, I will certainly have some very strong words for her.

As I drift further into dreamland I can't help but recall how good she smells and how nicely rounded her bosoms are. There is nothing manly about Jo at all. A more womanly woman I have yet to encounter. I do like her blue eyes when they shoot fire at me. I wonder if her hair is as soft as it looks and those lips. God those lips. I would love to…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Snowbound **_**Jo**_

Lord but these two weeks have been an eye-opener. I knew things would be difficult and they have been but in a different way than I thought. I imagined Erik and I would be at one another's throats and for a short time we were, well still are really but on my part I don't have the heart for it. I find myself in a quandary. My feelings for Erik are crystal clear to me now at least I believe so. I am falling in love with him. At first I thought I was only in lust with him. I could not be near him without my mind conjuring all sorts of wickedly indecent pictures of the two of us. Erik on his part has been very circumspect. He is even very tolerant of the children. Jason and Amanda still think him to be Santa Claus although Jason is a little less sure. Erik's knack for carving adds credence to Amanda's belief as he makes incredible lifelike miniature figures.

Once Erik's arm healed he did not waste time giving me my marching orders when it came to caring for him other than his leg bindings. Those he let me tend as it was awkward for him to do so otherwise I'd not be allowed near him again I do believe. His grumpy attitude sweetened a mite when he could use his arm again. When Erik claimed to be bored with lying idle day after day he asked me to fetch him some small pieces of wood and a sharp knife. I imagined him whittling and maybe making one of those wooden musical instruments like Uncle Charlie and his cronies in town made. When the children took to staying and observing Erik at work I felt myself drawn as well. What a treat I saw when I entered the room. Erik had already made a very accurate figurine of Amanda and now worked on one that looked to be Jason. Such intricate detail had gone into the work it is hard to conceive anyone could have such talent to fashion something so beautiful out of chunks of wood.

Examining the replica of Amanda I could see each of her features copied to perfection. From her tip tilted nose to her small perfect ears he had captured Amanda's essence in still life form. I dare not hope Erik will make a likeness of me. To do so means he has studied me closer than I believe he has done, not that I would object to such a thing. I have done my share of observing Erik while he is otherwise occupied. I have lost count of those times I have drifted off into some daydream which features him being my knight in shining armor or the hero who comes charging in to whisk me away from some evil villain.

I now realize that I have not known what love is or what it is all about until I fell in love with Erik. He is on my mind the first thing when I open my eyes and the last thing I think of just before I drift off to sleep. Throughout the day I find myself stopping whatever I am doing so I can devote my full attention to something he is doing or has done. Now that he can manage to come downstairs he is also strong enough to tend to all of his other needs. I am not sure how I feel about that but know Erik is relieved to have full control of himself again. Although he is still a bit grouchy he is not mean spirited as he used to be. He no longer says things that hurt me or the children. He has even gone so far as to play along with Jason and Amanda believing he is Santa Claus. He borrowed a handful of corn from the barrel in the barn and made a leather pouch to put it in. Conveniently he left it where they would be sure to find it. They had looked on wide-eyed when he made a big deal to me about worrying how he would get about on the big night if he lost the magic corn that made reindeer fly.

The both of us exchanged a conspiratorial smile as we shared in the harmless fun. Nothing I said would convince them Erik was anything other than that jolly old man who would be leaving them presents under the tree. He'll be leaving them presents alright but not as any person from folklore. He has brought in any number of oddly shaped pieces of wood from around the woodpile. He asked for screws, nuts, bolts and nails. Pieces of cloth have gone missing from my sewing basket. I can't imagine what he is planning but I know it will be something the children will appreciate and will impress me as everything he does lately has taken on epic proportions for me. I am so besotted it is a wonder the man cannot see it plainly written on my face. I know the children have their suspicions and hopes as they are constantly asking questions I would much prefer they didn't. So far they have not asked anything in front of Erik for which I can be grateful.

Perhaps I jinxed myself when I patted myself on the back for escaping having Erik quizzed by the children or anything about my own feelings brought out in the open. Lunchtime is usually taken at leisure around noon and we all take a plate to sit around the fireplace and today is no exception. The difference today is Amanda and Jason seem to have an agenda that seems to be to cause me as much discomfort as possible.

We have hardly gotten settled when Amanda asks innocently, or so she would have us believe, "So Erik, do you think it is alright if Santa were to marry? I mean, wouldn't it be better for him to have a family than to be all alone all year long and if he married someone with children already wouldn't that be wonderful?" She bats her baby blues at Erik as he sits with his fork halfway to his mouth. His eyes zip over to me and naturally I shrug my shoulders as this time he is the one being grilled by Little Miss Butter Wouldn't Melt in My Mouth.

Taking his bite of potato then chewing overly long on that which does not need chewed he swallows then picks up his napkin to dab at his mouth. All of this is a stalling tactic. I can see by the furrowing of his brow he is giving this some very deep thought. Just when I am secure in believing for once I won't be drawn into one of their embarrassing little discussions Erik the turncoat faces me and smiles as he says, "Well I really couldn't say. Perhaps Jo, being a woman living with two children can enlighten us as to the virtue of having children around the house. What say you Jo? Are children a blessing? Would they not make a nice addition to end a man's solitary existence?"

I think Erik has forgotten that they think he is the great man from the North Pole or maybe not. A glint in his eyes belies his innocent tone. Well I'll not be dragged into the fray just to save him. He can save himself.

"Oh goodness me, I have forgotten to bring in the side of beef for supper. If I don't get it on soon we'll be eating after midnight. I'll just take this sandwich with me to eat on the way. Continue on with your discussion children. I am sure Erik will be pleased to answer any and all questions."

Making a quick retreat to the kitchen I am not so happy now when I look out the window. The snow has eased up but it is still darn cold out there. In weather like this we only venture out a couple of times to check on the livestock in the pens and barn. The few head of cattle we have are roaming around the range and will be rounded up in the spring along with new calves. I know the men staying out at the winter cabin will look after the herd and give them hay that we hauled up there this past summer for the purpose of winter feed. Growing, cutting and baling our own hay saves us much needed cash in the long run. It is a lot of work but worth the effort.

Donning boots and my winter coat and gloves it is time to go outside and freeze my backside off just to best Erik. I'd much rather be sitting opposite him stealing quick glimpses of his handsome face. Of late I have been fantasizing just what he looks like under all that brush he calls a beard. A little beard on a man is attractive I think but Erik has allowed his beard to go bushy and it looks unkempt though I know he is a very clean man. My fingers itch to sneak up on him while he sleeps and shave off the whole mess. I don't care to imagine what sort of fuss he would put up if I were to do something like that as I think his beard is a way to hide part of his deformity or scarring. I have seen the scars on his back as well as those on his scalp and wanted to ask about them but feel that is something else which stills haunts him.

Erik is a man of many secrets. I have peeled away a few layers and like what is underneath all his gruff don't touch me attitude. Most of it is a learned self-defense mechanism. If he keeps the world at bay he is less likely to get hurt. From his ramblings while ill I have been given little snippets of his life. Nothing that pieced together gives me a clear picture but enough to know that parts of his past are better left forgotten. His cries out in terror during a few of his nightmares gave me the cold chills. He has cried as I held him on a few of those occasions. Fortunately for the both of us he has not remembered those nights. If he does maybe he will think they are part of his dreams.

Holding him to my breast while he cried is an experience I hope never to repeat. not if it means he has to relive something horrible. As much as I could I soothed him. Even when he called out for his precious Christine I gave him solace. At times he confused me with that person. I have never heard him speak so gently or so heartbreakingly sad to anyone. That she is someone he has lost for some unknown reason is clear. He has implored her many times not to leave him and to love him. How could any woman with an ounce of compassion not be swayed by such a heartfelt plea? I know at those times I would have pledged my undying devotion if he had wanted it from me. Alas he seems to think of me only as young Jo, Charlie's awkward little niece. I want to bash him upside the head at times and declare I am not a little girl but a woman. Despite how I dress I am all womanly inside, especially when it comes to how I feel about Erik.

The ax leaning against the log splitting stump reminds me that we have yet to put up a tree. In the past I would badger Uncle Charlie the day after Thanksgiving to pick out a tree to put up and after a couple of weeks we'd be out finding another one as the first one had dried out and he feared we'd burn the house down on Christmas Eve if we lit even one candle to put on a branch. The day we found Erik had been only a couple of days after Thanksgiving. Uncle Charlie would have laughed his head off while tending gently to Erik's wounds. Thinking of Uncle Charlie makes me sadder this time of year. We didn't have a lot to buy presents but we sure had a lot of love and fun. He always made Christmas Day extra special.

Since Erik so graciously provided a horse it would be a shame not to use him. The only horse we have now is an old mare that is better left in the barn through the colder winter months. We intended to buy one but something else always came up that needed to be fixed or replaced. I am sure Jason and Amanda won't mind this year if I pick out the tree myself. Erik will keep them enthralled with tales of French operas they have never heard about before. It appears for an opera to be thought of as good someone must die, kill or haunt another. So far not one happy ending has been among those stories Erik has told us.

The day Erik sang a Christmas carol with Amanda so she could practice for our next meeting on Sunday I thought I heard some angel from heaven singing. What that man does merely speaking is dangerous but to hear him sing is to glimpse heaven. He has made sure not to let me hear him sing again. I suppose I had looked all besotted and weepy-eyed. The pure beauty of his voice brought out a well-spring of overwhelming happiness and sadness at the same time. The two warred within me for release and so the tears fell unchecked from my eyes. For a moment I had caught a flash of something like recognition in his eyes. The moment quickly passed and he became distant and withdrawn for the next few hours. When he rejoined us whatever had triggered some unhappy memory had past and neither of us referred to it by silent agreement.

The cold wind is whipping through my coat so this mission to find a tree will need to be cut short. I can't pick out one as big as Uncle Charlie would have cut down but a nice full medium sized one will work. Strength is only half the skill needed to wield an ax effectively. Splitting wood is not easy and neither is chopping down a tree no matter if it is relatively small. After spending half an hour chopping then hoisting the tree onto the sled I'll need a long hot bath when I get back. The hot water sounds good even if I didn't feel like a lumberjack out on a week long tree felling job. One whiff of me and I can imagine what cracks Erik would make about me and femininity.

I think this will be Erik's first real Christmas. He has let slip some things about his younger years. He didn't say anything specific but he did say the day hasn't meant much to him in the past. I sort of got the impression from his wistful tone that he wouldn't mind having something to celebrate or someone to celebrate the day with either.

Until we can make a spot ready for the tree it will have to be left outside. Going the back way through the kitchen I can hear voices coming from upstairs. I suppose Jason and Amanda are playing in there rooms. I hear Erik tuning Uncle Charlie's old fiddle. When he asked if we had any instruments I hadn't realized he not only could play several different instruments but composed music as well. Amanda had given him a few of her precious sheets of paper. His room had been littered with the papers after a few hours. Every sheet had musical notes. If this is what he can do after only a few hours I can only guess at what he might do if he composed full time. Perhaps he'd write one of those opera's he likes to tell us about.

Eagerly I head for the washroom. A toasty fire has been kept going of late as with one extra person more hot water is needed. Tipping the bucket into the tub I refill it to heat again. I think a nice three bucket soak is in order. I'll even add some of those lilac scented bath salts Uncle Charlie gave me. Every year he gave me the same gift in my stocking. He wanted me to have some feminine influence so he bought me bath salts in lieu of bringing a woman into his home.

Nothing feels quite so good as a hot bath on a cold day. I have stayed in the tub until the water has almost gone cold. This peace won't last long. There are things I need to do before supper. Sighing with regret I rise up and reach for a towel. I almost have it in my hand when without warning the door opens and there stands a stunned Erik. He is no more stunned than I. For brief seconds we stare at one another. Well I am staring at his face and he I realize is looking everywhere but my face. My paralysis finally ceases to have me locked in this position and I bring the towel to my chest. At least the front of me is covered.

I am waiting for Erik to make a tactful retreat but it seems to be taking him longer than it should. He appears frozen to the spot just as I was earlier. I can't blame him for being surprised or discomfited enough to leave him in shock. It is my fault for not locking the door. I hadn't needed to use the lock before and didn't think to do so now that a man resided in my home.

When at last Erik could move he begins to back out of the room without a word leaving his mouth. Really I don't know what one should say at a time like this or even if anything is appropriate. I know my own tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. My body is awash in color. I feel as if I have been out in the sun too long and burned and I am burning but not from the sun. Even after the door has closed after him I seem unable to move. How will I be able to face him again knowing he has seen far too much of me to be comfortable in his presence. I suppose one could say that cosmic justice had come into play as now Erik and I have both seen more of another person than is proper. If this ever got out the earnest God fearing people in town would think they had been delivered into a hotbed of sin. Perhaps this can be kept a secret between Erik and I. I do hope so.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**With This Ring **_**Erik**_

Even after the door to the washroom has closed in front of me I continue to back away as I can't seem to take my gaze away from the wooden panels because I know what pure beauty is behind that door. A few feet from me there is a naked Aphrodite and I have seen her, all of her, sans clothes and towel. If not for Jo's slow response to my sudden interruption into the room I would not have been blessed with such lovely sight. Thank God her reflexes had been stymied by my unexpected appearance. If the priests from my youth had been telling me the truth I should be blind right now having seen a woman I know with almost one hundred percent certainty is virginal. According to them looking on the flesh of women is sin and to look upon virginal skin is blasphemous unless a marriage ceremony has taken place.

I am surprised when I don't keel over as I think I had forgotten to breath during the last few minutes. More than anything I want to take myself away to my room so I may relive the last few minutes. Turning around I am met by two pairs of openly curious faces. Marvelous, now they would all believe I am a lecherous voyeur although I am sure the children do not know the word or the meaning but they will wonder why I came out of a room where they likely know Jo had gone to bathe. Indignation rises to save face. Should she not have given us some indication she would be using the washroom and warn us we would need to make the trip to the outhouse or use the dreaded pots in our rooms? It is Jo's fault entirely that I am now in this predicament.

"Erik, are you and Jo going to take a bath together? I don't think there is enough room." Amanda's innocent question sends my mind spinning in different directions but I refuse to let her innocent words be the instigator for my lustful thoughts.

"No, uh she was…I just…" Why all of a sudden did I sound like a guilty youth caught peeking into the ladies dressing room at the opera house?

"Amanda you are so young sometimes. Of course he isn't going to take a bath with Jo. That would be just stupid. How'd they get clean all scrunched up? Erik was just scrubbing Jo's back. You know how she is always complaining we don't have a back brush, well Erik is such a gentleman he offered to do it for her." Turning to me he asks with innocent conviction, 'Isn't that so Erik."

If Jason were older I'd say he had done the gentlemanly thing and come to the rescue of Jo and I. Since he is not of an age to think such evil thoughts as I, then I must conclude he has given me an out without any man to man aiding and abetting.

"You are quite right Jason. Jo called out and naturally I thought she needed help. I mistakenly went in and she informed me she merely needed a towel. She called out for someone to fetch one from the drying line in the kitchen." Kneeling down to his level I must convey that it is not proper for a gentleman to enter into a room when a lady may be in a compromising position.

"I would never go into any room where Jo is…when she has…" Again Jason rescue me and I begin to suspect he knows more than he should at his tender age.

"When she's naked? Awe shucks everybody knows that but it's alright if'n the lady asks a fella to come help her. Mr. Granger sleeps with Widow Jenkins almost every night. He tells his kids it's so he can protect her from bad men. Now ain't that real brave of him? I don't suppose you'd wanna sleep with Jo?" The warning glare I send his way must have given him my opinion of his suggestion and that I believe he has gone far enough with his "aiding and abetting" a fellow male.

"Uh, s'pose not. Amanda I think we have wood to bring in. Come on. See ya' later Erik." He pulls Amanda by her arm nearly toppling her over in his effort to be gone before I can let lose any reprimands. The little conniver. I can't raise my ire very much as I have to admire his efforts at matchmaking even if he is a bit heavy handed at it. I know that out here the woman to man ratio is far from equal and women are less inclined to keep to standards they would back east. It can be very lonely in this vast open country if one does not live in town and even then it can still be lonely unless one has a family or companion to share the every day hardships.

I wonder if Jason's belief that I am this mythical present giving man has influenced him into wanting me and Jo to get together. For his age he is very adept at forming complicated plots. I have observed his strategies when he plays with his metal cavalry soldiers and horses. If he isn't a general commanding troops when he grows up I'll be very surprised. He is a natural strategist except when it comes to human emotions in a one on one basis. Unless he knows something I don't Jo isn't likely to welcome any intimate overtures from me.

I could have gracefully retreated to my room as I had planned but I found that I would rather sit in a comfortable chair by the fire. If this happened to put me in a direct line to view anyone coming out of the washroom that was mere coincidence. If my eyes turned more toward that door between me and the vision of lovely womanhood I knew still occupied that room it was no ones business but mine and I am only sitting here reading a book so there is not one thing anyone could object to. I am most certainly not loitering just to see Jo emerge after her bath, certainly not. Do I need any reminders of just how perfectly formed she is under her clothing? I can't imagine ever forgetting those moments my eyes drank in the sight of her. They are burned deep into my brain.

I'll suffer for my continued reflections on just what Jo looks like. My body is so hard with want I'll need to have some privacy soon to relief my torment. God how this brings back all those nights Christine drove me nearly insane with want and always being denied any show of affection. When she did at last kiss me nothing about it was real, not as I wanted and needed it to be. I have to say it is getting easier to think of her without feeling all those old agonies. Slowly I have let go the hate and resentment of Raoul. It still stings that he is with Christine but only a little. I wish them well. In fact I wish everyone to have a second chance at happiness just as I belief I have been granted. I am not fooling myself that Jo will figure into my future in any intimate way but we have become friends and I do care about Jason and Amanda even though they are irritating at times. I'd rather have the irritation than be alone. Really they aren't so bad and they do seem to enjoy my stories and ask intelligent questions for their ages.

The clicking of the door signals Jo will be entering the room in a few seconds. Quickly I open the book that had been lying unopened on my lap. Just in time I notice it is upside-down. Wouldn't that have been rather awkward to explain?

A waft of lilac precedes her as she comes to the fireplace to sit on the hearth. Briskly she tousles her hair with her fingers to dry it. It is a lovely color and would look enchanting if she would let it grow. I can't help wanting to run my own fingers through those shiny strands.

Not looking up at me she says, "Erik, about…well about what happened earlier. I think it would be best just to put it behind us and keep this incident between the two of us. After all nothing really happened. No harm was done. It isn't as if you meant to…Well you know what I am trying to say."

Indeed I do know and I would concur with her if not for the fact of two very curious eyewitnesses and the fact that it is all I can to look her in the eye and not take in her form so I might relive those moments I saw her in a way no other person likely has in a long time, since the time of childhood I'll wager. As my heart races and my trousers tighten even more I know I must remove myself from her or do something regrettable. If she held a fascination for me before now she is water and I am the divining rod.

"Think no more about it as it is of no consequence to me." The flash of something like anger is surprising. I would think she wouldn't want me to recall one thing about her. If she waits a moment I am sure I shall be struck dead for telling such an outright lie. Now I will no longer be able to use the excuse that Jo is only an innocent young girl to keep my monstrous inner man from prowling around sniffing at her like a dog after a bitch in heat. It was the same with Christine. Once I let myself begin to see her as anything other than just an innocent girl all bets were off and I set my sights on her. My lust crazed libido had been quickly followed by my heart.

I swear she has inched further from me and a chill has wafted from her direction toward me. Her sudden movement to stand up startles me. She mumbles an excuse about needing to tend to supper then closes the door to the kitchen with a glass rattling slam. Perhaps I could have worded my reassurance about dismissing our encounter in a different manner, one less like a rejection of her and more as a gentleman offering to heed a ladies command. Damn and we had just begun to tolerate one another's presence. I shall have to make amends in a very grandiose manner in order to win her favor once more. I, more than anyone, should know what it is to be rejected because of how one looks and Jo has nothing to complain about on that score.

It isn't the time of year for flowers but I do think I can create just the thing from a piece of wood upstairs. It may take a day or two but it might just do the trick.

During the evening meal Jo is polite but nothing more. Frostbite would be less chilling than her cold attitude. My work is really cut out for me. Jason and Amanda try several different tactics to get a conversation going between Jo and I with little results. After the meal I make my excuses and head upstairs. The evening story time will have to be forgone if I am to complete my peace offering before Jo freezes me into a solid block of ice.

I have lost track of time while staying with Jo and her family. Jason comes to remind me that tomorrow is Sunday and we will be making the trip to town. It will be an all day affair. We will attend service then share a potluck meal with everyone after the service. The journey home will be made long after dark. He is excited because we'll be using the horse drawn sled now that my horse is available otherwise they would be traveling by sled again with Jo doing the pulling. Not a pleasant mode of travel or an easy one. It isn't any wonder they make so few trips to town.

The delema of proper attire brings me back downstairs and I ask what I might wear if I am to accompany them. So far my wardrobe has consisted of my own trousers and the pair Jo gave me from Charlie's room. I know she had donated all the rest of his clothing although being of a practical nature there wasn't much he owned in the way of clothing.

With three pairs of eyes looking at me thoughtfully I feel a little like a fish in a bowl. Just when I am about to protest such rude behavior Jo offers, "Well I suppose we'd better go and fetch you something. And before you get all riled up I won't be poking through your things. You can come along and do the picking yourself."

I don't want to be the one to point out that if I am well enough to travel to my home then I am well enough to take care of myself in my own home. I can't say that I care for the idea at all especially with Christmas so close. This will be the first time I actually spent the day with anyone other than myself. Perhaps it is my inner child which is hoping I might find a present under the tree for me. I took delight in decorating those branches of green even though they scratched my skin and made me itchy later. I would suffer the reaction to the sap a hundred times over just to be a part of the happiness that tree brought to all of them. I have to say it made me feel warm inside as well. I contributed to the decorations by carving many tiny wooden ornaments. An unaccustomed feeling of belonging had washed over me as we worked on the tree as a…dare I say family? I am not one of them by blood but then neither is Jo and the children yet they are closer than many legitimate family members. It may be a simple offering but nothing I can imagine lovelier than those branches decorated with homemade ornaments and garlands of popped corn and cranberries wrapped gaily around the tree. The children not wanting to be left out used paper and paints to create colorful ornaments. They were as proud of those cheaply made items as if they had been gold. Jo made a fuss of them as well. Wanting to stay on good terms with everyone I made sure to express my own appreciation with exuberance and often.

The trip to my home on Saturday proved to be one of enjoyment. We told stories and I listened to the children sing carols. They harmonized quite well. Jo joined in and although not horrible her voice needs much improvement in order to be tolerated on its own. Blended in with Jason and Amanda it didn't sound so horrid. The longer I sat beside her and listened the less critical I became. By the time we reached my front steps I think I actually found her voice to be lovely.

Not wanting to waste our time together picking out what to wear I told them to wait and I would make a quick trip inside to retrieve what I needed. While I was in my room I grabbed a few extra items of clothing and my grooming kit. My beard had gotten to be on the longish side and needed a trim. As promised I returned within a half hour carrying a small valise stuffed with what I considered necessary to survive. Not one wig or mask resided within that leather case. How different my life had become from what it had been just a year ago.

A night never seemed so long as that Saturday. If I knew what the next day would bring I might not have wished my life away. The morning came with no snow falling but lots of sunshine despite the low temperature. As this is Sunday and we will be leaving for church soon I am down early. When I see Jo all decked out in a lovely blue gingham dress it is all I can do to manage not to swallow my tongue or have it hanging out like a dog anticipating a treat. Who would have thought a simply sewn dress could make such a difference in a woman's appearance, certainly not I. First I see Jo sans clothing looking for all the world like Aphrodite come to life and now she is dressed like a simple girl yet her allure is such that all males who cast their gaze on her will feel as I do, which is a disturbing realization. Others will see what I am seeing. Men who would not look twice at Jo before may now trip over themselves to ask permission to come calling. Why now has she chosen to embrace her femininity when before she cared nothing for it?

Going out to load up on the sleigh I notice red bows have been tied to the front and my poor horse has been bedecked with red ribbons as well. He doesn't seem to mind. With the children filling the back it is left for me to sit beside Jo on the front seat. I am appreciative of the warm bricks placed in the bottom of the sleigh. With Jo and me sharing a blanket we will be as toasty as if we sat beside our own fire. This is another first for me, sharing a blanket while sitting beside a woman. My devilish mind has me imagining us lying on a bed and I can't say I am ashamed of doing so, not really. What man in his right mind would not like to see himself sharing such intimacies with Jo? The wonder is I haven't done so long before now.

The children squabble playfully while Jo and I just enjoy the crisp clean air. The vast white blanket is littered here and there with trees striped bare of their leaves and any number of green pines. This road is traveled often by coaches and wagons alike so the snow is packed and the way is easy to see. It helps that there are mile markers with arrows pointing out the direction of various small towns. With the railroad running through town soon it will be more than just a stop for refueling and a resting place for passengers. I know it is inevitable but I can't say I look forward to it. I like the wide open spaces with the convenience of town an hour's ride away. I could even catch a train now and then to find culture in New York or various other hubs of population. Thus far I haven't felt an overwhelming urge to seek out a theatre or museum. I would like a library and have looked into that proposition. The school could use more adequate tools for learning as well. Jason and Amanda are taught by Jo during the winter months and they walk to school when weather permits. As goodwill gesture for having cared for me all this time I believe I will offer my horse to Jo. With an able bodied animal they could get about more often as well as in a safer manner. I have the means to acquire another animal and it isn't as if I have formed an attachment to him. He is only a beast of burden to me. My sentimentality toward animals is no more than it is toward most humanity. No sympathy had ever been thrown my way so I have seen no obligation to bother myself with those less fortunate than myself.

As one would expect town is abuzz with people this fine crisp winter morning. I feel the eyes of everyone following us to the post provided for hitching wagons, carriages and horses while their owners attend church service. I hope it is only my imagination that is having me hear whispers as we pass. As soon as we stop the children scamper off to join their friends as they have not seen them in nearly a month. I do hope Jason does say anything untoward while at play with his friends. Children are apt to repeat everything they hear whether it will cause another discomfort or not. I am beginning to think Jo and I should have arrived separately. A man staying with a young woman unchaperoned will cause tongues to wag. I'd hate for Jo to suffer from those harpies who make it their business to judge everyone else's behavior while forgetting about their own misconduct.

"We may as well go on in and grab a seat. The bell will be ringing shortly. The children won't come in until the last vibration fades away."

I refrain from saying anything as my mind is occupied wondering what Jason is saying to the others. Later I would regret not worrying about another even more innocent teller of tales. As we are going in we see Amanda coming toward us holding hands with one of the biggest busybodies in town. The pinched lips and disapproving glare she sends toward me heralds what is to come later but of course only later does it dawn on me to be concerned by this woman being with Amanda. It doesn't even concern me when Mrs. Edmond Hammond marches right up to the preacher and leans in to whisper something in his ear. He leans down to ask Amanda something to which she nods her head. I should have had red flags waving in front of me or loud warning bells clanging in my ears but I only had an interest in the lovely creature beside me.

One of the fathers of Jason's playmate, Andrew, brings him in and takes him straight to the preacher. Now I am beginning to get a warning tingle that usually means something unpleasant is to befall me. Andrew's father speaks to Jason and must have bid him to tell the preacher something for Jason begins to eagerly recount something which has both men glancing about worriedly. They pull Jason away from anyone who might listen in on their conversation. When Jason is finished both adults send me a censorious look one sends to someone who has committed some social gaff or misdemeanor. Only now is it coming to light what all this might be about. I don't like where this is going but can do nothing to stop the flow of gossip from one to another. Soon the whole congregation will know and Jo is sure to hear of it as well. It isn't fair she must suffer for being a person with a kind heart. Would they rather I died in the snow to save her virtuous reputation?

Everyone coming in appears to be staring in our direction. If I turn my head I know I will meet some accusing stare shooting daggers at me. What have I done to warrant this treatment? If this were France and this the opera house I could understand their censure but I haven't done anything to anyone that would have them eyeing me in such a way. Perhaps it is my own guilty conscience causing me to imagine things.

Leaning sideways I ask in a whisper, "Jo why do I get the impression I have done something untenable and I am about to be taken to task for the offense?"

She whispers in an aside, "I can't imagine anything any more than you can but I must say you have been rather nasty at times to me and perhaps that has extended to others."

I have been courteous to everyone or at least as much as society demands. I may not stand around on the street passing the time of day with people I meet but I have been known to tip my hat at a lady and shake the hand of the men in town when coming across one on the sidewalk. Jo is the only one I haven't felt easy enough with to behave naturally or as natural as I can be. It has taken a long time to adjust to being among people but I do feel I have made great strides.

For no particular reason I believe every word the preacher speaks is pointed directly at me. I feel he has aimed his sermon at me specifically and Jo secondary to me as he gives her fatherly looks holding fondness as well as slight disappointment. Hell and damnation for the wicked he shouts. Those who take advantage of the innocent lamb shall feel the wrath of God upon them. Temptation of the flesh should be resisted and prayed about. Corrupting an innocent can be corrected with God's blessings.

When we stand and begin to sing I am so glad to have something else to occupy my mind that I let out with full force singing the Christmas carol. O Holy Night has long been one of my favorites. Enjoying being able to sing once more even if it isn't opera is a pleasure. Closing my eyes I give into my inner impresario and let my voice ring true and loud. I hold back nothing. So engrossed in the moment I don't notice that one by one the voices around me drop off until it is only my voice resounding around the high steeple ceiling. As I am nearing the end of the last stanza I dimly become aware that it is only my voice filling the church.

As the last note fades away utter silence reigns for at least a minute. One by one members in the church begin to clap inappropriately while still more call out "bless you" and "praise God". All of this approval is for me. They appreciated my singing and I did not have to threaten one person to be heard. The look in Jo's eyes is one I can't interpret other than it is not censorious or filled with dislike. I dare not label it as I would like. It is enough to have others think something about me is worthy of praise. Since the building did not come crashing down around our ears I can assume God approved of my offering as well.

"Oh…oh Erik…I…I don't quite know what to say. You sounded…that was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard." There are tears in her eyes and I can see there are other women wiping their eyes as well. Who would think my voice, once feared by all, would have this affect on anyone?

Before I can say anything and really what could I say other than "thank you, you have made me a happy man" the preacher came to our pew and spoke directly to me.

"Mr. Delacroix if you would kindly give me a few moments of your time I should very much like to speak to you." His voice is what I imagine a father would use when speaking to a wayward son. This is some misunderstanding. I have done nothing that would bring down the judgment of…Halting that line of thought I cast a look over to Jason who keeps his head bowed and refuses to look me in the eye. Amanda is smiling happily so if she has said anything of a scandalous nature she is unaware of doing any harm while Jason knows full well we made a gentleman's bargain to keep quiet about certain things.

Why I thought Jo would know any more than I did wasn't and still isn't clear to me. I suppose it had to do with her being more familiar with Godly things and traditions than I. Not since my mother and I parted ways have I stepped foot inside a church and happily this one is not of the Catholic persuasion. My hands and legs still sting when I remember how many times my mother took me to a priest to be excised of the demon possessing me and cleansed so I might look like what an acceptable boy should look like according and to nearly every other thinking creature on this earth. Rare people can accept that which is different and not fully understood. Superstition plagued my life from the time I first breathed outside my mother's womb. I didn't trust men of the cloth any further than I might hurl a buffalo.

Getting only a shrug of the shoulders from Jo I turn reluctantly back to Mr. Farnsworth and say with a calm I don't feel, "Of course Mr. Farnsworth. It would be my pleasure." I bow slightly and smile in a friendly way when I want nothing more than to don my hat and head back into the hills.

The short walk to the small room at the back where he has living quarters seems very far away. If it would not cause Jo undue embarrassment I'd simply slip away and never be seen or heard from again. This I have no wish to do and besides I like living here. If I am honest it is Jo and the children I find keeping me here more than anything else. Despite my best efforts I have let them slip through the cracks in the armor I wear around my heart these days.

Mr. Farnsworth show me into his small living space which with him looking at me in such a concentrated fashion I have to say the room seems to be shrinking even as I accept the chair he offers me. Is this what I would have felt like being sent to the headmasters if I had gone to school that is? I want to fidget which I am not accustomed to doing in any situation. My usual response would be to eliminate that which disturbed me with extreme prejudice.

Once he is seated opposite me he begins in a friendly manner unlike what his facial expression before had forewarned, "Mr. Delacroix, would it be alright to call you Erik as we shall be discussing such personal matters?"

Personal matters? What personal matters? I give my consent with a nod of my head and he asks that I call him Benjamin.

He harrumphs a few times clearing his throat I believe to give him time to marshal his thoughts. Folding his hands on top of the desk he has seated himself behind he comes to the point in a round about way.

"Erik this is a small town. News here travels quickly. With so few people everyone knows everyone else's business and feel they have a right to know it. Young Jason and Amanda have been telling some tale about you and Jo. The idea of your being Santa Claus of course is preposterous and we as adults dismissed it as a child's fantasy. What we cannot condone or ignore is the fact that you have been staying in the house with Jo and the children without benefit of a chaperone. Jason has…he said…well he has let it be known you and Jo were got in a compromising position." He fidgets around as I wish I could. If he did not have the Lord's book in front of him he could quite possibly be feeling my wrath in a very painful way.

"Monsieur…" I slip back into French and have to stop to compose myself.

"Benjamin, anyone believing ill of Jo should have their minds scrapped clean of the rot. It may have escaped your notice but I have a broken leg. My arm was badly sprained and just came out of a sling. To accuse either Jo or I of doing anything that would bring disrespect to her is heinous and I will not stand for it. The person who started this false rumor should have their tongue removed so as not to damage anyone else."

"Now, now Erik, calm down. I am just trying to enlighten you as to what most will believe. You being a man of the world living with an innocent girl with her uncle barely cold in his grave is cause enough for those willing to cast judgment without proof just enough truth to cast aspersions against the innocent." He pauses then continues in a more pleasant tone, "What I propose is…well a proposal. Nothing short of a marriage will put a stop to those biddies, pardon my severity but sometimes it is called for."

If he thinks he is severe how horrified he would be to know what I am thinking of doing to those who speak out against Jo's good name, mine is of no consequence but she doesn't deserve any of those sorts of things from people who held her uncle in high esteem. As that part of my anger is coming to a boil it dawns on me he has just told me in no uncertain terms I am to propose marriage to Jo. Is the man insane to suggest such a thing? What woman in her right mind would have me? I have nothing to offer anyone, Christine pounded that into my head hard enough. I am not meant to have a partner in that way. A friend is the most I can hope for.

"Now Erik bear with me. While I am speaking to you a few of the ladies are speaking to Jo. I assigned a few of the more tactful and less judgmental women of the congregation to explain things to her. She'll not be surprised by your proposal. If all goes well and she accepts I am prepared to perform the ceremony today. You and Jo can go home as man and wife. Now what do you say to that Erik? Isn't that a fine idea?"

If I could think of something to say I doubt if my tongue would work. My throat feels frozen with something like dread and fear. Is this God's finale slap in the face? He has placed me with another woman I care about and through no fault of my own will either have to propose marriage or leave town and Jo will have to face the gossips alone. Can I do that to her? How can I place my heart out to be ripped apart again? No damn it I will not do this. There must be another way. I won't be hurt again. God loves to dangle the promise of heaven on earth only to snap it out of reach at the last moment. This is all Jo's fault. She should have left me to either perish or survive on my own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Closing in to our twelth day of Christmas.**

**Chapter Six**

**I Do, He Doesn't **_**Jo**_

Embarrassment would be an obvious reaction to what is being said about me and Erik. I am embarrassed but along with that some sense of pleasant expectation is unfolding inside of me. I would never, could never, plan something like this but I am not above taking advantage of the situation presented to me.

Three members of the church's League of Women for Christianity have come to speak with me about Erik staying in my home and what is being said. I suppose either or both Jason and Amanda made some comments and the ball rolled down the hill gaining momentum as it came to one person then another. Before long it was an unstoppable steam roller. Gossip is like that, it spreads quicker than the truth. People would rather believe something outrageously untrue than a simple explanation holding truth. Grand stories with much embellishment make for better entertainment. If this effort on the parts of these fine upstanding ladies wasn't to my benefit I'd tell them to go to hell, well maybe not in those exact words but my meaning would be the same.

Erik is likely to be madder than a bull at the bullfight and rightly so. He has been nothing other than a gentleman toward me. I on the other hand took advantage when he was incapacitated to look my fill of him. Erik being such a private person is going to hate everyone discussing him like this and thinking things that are not true. If what these paragons of virtue are saying is true Erik will be storming out any second now ready to skin me I am sure. For myself I wouldn't mind doing as they are suggesting but Erik may have an objection or two. Sure enough I barely think this and the door to the rectory crashes open and bangs heavily against the wall. It is a good thing it is made of stone or we'd be needing to do some repairs.

Without a word Erik storms over to me with long angry strides. He is grinding his teeth as his jaw is clenching moving his muscle with each grinding motion. I am prepared for him to curse me to hell but he remains silent while he continues to glare at me. Grabbing my arm roughly he begins to pull me along behind him. If it wasn't broad daylight and several witnesses standing around I'd be worried for my safety, not really but it does feel thrilling to see Erik all masterful and commanding. Uncle Charlie would not have let Erik near me if he believed for one second Erik would harm me. I have belief in Erik's goodness as well. He may be angry but not homicidal. He has every right to shout at me. After all it is my sister and brother who have gotten us into this mess.

Erik has left his coat inside and yet the cold seems not to faze him just now. Likely his anger is acting like a furnace keeping him warm. He lets go of my arm when we are on the far side of the church. No one will come around here unless they need to make a call of nature in the outhouse.

"Erik, I can…" He angrily cuts me off.

"Be quiet! I need time to think. This is insane. How could this happen? This is impossible." He continues to stomp around in the packed snow. Now he is speaking more to himself than to me. I have learned from Uncle Charlie that it is better to let a man pop the cork on his anger. After a few minutes stalking about Uncle Charlie would eventually run out of steam and be able to speak calmly about whatever had upset him. Erik took a bit longer than it did Uncle Charlie but he did get hold of himself so we could begin to have our very necessary conversation.

After looking at me for a minute he placed his hands behind his back and paced back and forth as he began to speak. His voice sounded quite unlike his normally confident tone as he said, "Well I suppose it must be done. It need not be anything permanent you understand. After an appropriate time we'll have it annulled as we won't...I won't…I'd never expect you to…Damn it why don't you say something?"

"Alright, what would you have me say? I am in the dark as to what you are fuming about." I knew of course but what woman wants to hear the man she is going to marry refer to it in the way Erik has, as if it were some awful punishment or nasty medicine.

"Are you daft woman? What the hell do you think I have been going on about? Mark my words you'll not take advantage of me. Not one penny shall pass from me to you. When the time comes we shall part and go on as if we never met. That is for the best. Don't you agree?" He seemed to be challenging me to contradict him and if I didn't know better I'd think he hoped I would oppose him. I do oppose it heartily but I'll keep that to myself for now. What man wants to be forced into taking a bride, one he hasn't had a hand in choosing?

As I continue to peer up at him from my shorter stance he runs his hands through his hair in agitation. He is so out of sorts he doesn't realize this gives me a good look at what his long thick hair covers. I have seen it while taking care of him but he doesn't like me to mention anything about what is on his face or his back. I feel a tug in my chest for what he may have had to suffer to end up with such scars. Those I have seen on his back I know have come from a whip across his back and I wish I could take away the memory of each lash cutting into his flesh. I do hope the cosmic forces have seen to it that whoever did this to Erik has payed many times over.

My sympathetic look must have made him uncomfortable for he straightens to an even taller stance. Lord but the man is tall and strong. Women would count him among those men who are compared to heroic myths from Greek and Norse tales. A god, yes, Erik does look godlike when his nostrils flare and he glares straight at me while his face, that handsome face is set in stubborn righteous indignation.

"What I have been trying to convey, not very successfully is that it is expected for me to…for you and I to…Damn it we are to wed and I'll not stand for any nonsense in this matter. It is only temporary and I'll not expect anything of an intimate nature from you. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I understand perfectly Erik. I am grateful for your generous nature. All of this must be so hard for you. I'll do my part to make it as easy as I can. To make things seem more real I propose we all move into your home." Knowing he is about to object most strenuously I continue reassuringly, "It won't be for long Erik, just long enough to convince everyone we are man and wife in every sense of the word."

Now that I have said the word "wife" out loud I find I like saying it but hesitate doing so as Erik has been pushed to his limits already. I have what I want and now it is up to me to show Erik that his life is better for having me in it as well as Jason and Amanda.

Now that he has my agreement his shoulders slump and look more relaxed. A tentative smile tugs at the edge of his mouth. Erik rarely smiles but when he does strange things happen to my insides, strange but wonderful. I smile shyly back at him. When he holds out his hand to me it seems like the most natural thing in the world to place mine in his. For a moment I feel a slight pressure on my fingers. Whether this is to reassure me or him I don't know, all I do know is that I feel save in his hands. I'll take safety and hope for more later as time passes. Erik appears to be a normal viral man. Place a woman and a man in close proximity for an extended time and things are bound to happen. I may not be as lovely as this Christine person but I'll do my darnedest to make Erik think of me as a man thinks of a woman he would like to…well would like to do adult things with. I don't need to put into words of one syllable what I am referring to for my mind is way ahead of me in that respect. The things I have dreamt of about Erik and I are not for discussion with anyone. I blush just to think of such things.

Mr. Farnsworth is standing just outside the doors in front of church as if he expected us. It is a little unsettling that everyone is standing around looking at us both with welcoming smiles. I suppose they had no doubt that I would be saying yes to Erik's proposal. They probably think is was only a matter of time before he popped the question on his own. Once we had been chastised for our supposed sins everyone is willing to now accept us back into the fold with open arms. Sometimes they can be closed minded but their hearts for the most part are in the right place.

I have only a few seconds to take in the barrage of women surrounding me pulling me away from Erik's protective presence. They whisk me away to the storage room which has been filled with bits and pieces of wedding finery. I am stripped of my dress and dressed in someone's wedding gown. It is all tulle and lace. A long veil is placed on my head. The tiny pink roses around the cap look lovely when I am allowed to at last see myself in a mirror. The vision reflected back at me looks nothing like the Jo I know. Even I have to admit I look almost beautiful. Someone shoves a bouquet of what are dried flowers into my hand. This is a keepsake form another woman's wedding. It meant so much to her that she carefully dried and preserved her wedding bouquet. Being so young when I lost my mother I don't remember much about her other than her scent. I use lilac scented soaps because it is the only real memory I have of my mother. Today as I exchange vows with Erik I feel she and my father will be looking down on me with smiles. They will know that even though at the moment Erik is being forced into doing the right thing by me eventually he will come to care for me. I must believe this or everything will be for naught.

With one last tug at my veil to cover my face the door is opened and I can't help but equate it to a door to my future being opened for me. With all my heart I want Erik and I to make this a success. It is not only me who will pay the price if we fail. Jason and Amanda will suffer too. They may imagine Erik as a jolly gift giver but I also feel they see him as a father figure just as they did Uncle Charlie. Uncle Charlie is likely standing right beside my parents and sending me his blessing. He made no secret how he felt about Erik and what he wanted to happen between us.

Music begins to play on the pipe organ. Jason steps up to me, looking far tidier than he had earlier. His shoulders are drawn back as he offers me his arm. As my only male relative he is standing in for my father. Amanda not to be left out has a basket which holds pieces of cut up paper rather than the petals of flowers. I can't complain as this is all rather sudden.

As I approach the podium Erik has his back turned to me and is standing as stiff as any poker I have ever seen. Poor man is being put through his paces today. So much is being thrust upon him and none of it his choice. I can hope that he is not imagining some other woman in my place and regretting it is me instead of… well instead of that woman.

I am beside him now and he must look at me. When he turns I can hear his sharply indrawn breath. Through the thin curtain of the veil I can only make out a shimmery image of him. He looks so handsome in his dark suit. He has forgone wearing those cumbersome cravats he wore when he first arrived here. Now he either wears nothing around his neck or a black ribbon as many out west do. Craning my neck I can see so many emotions crossing his face. Confusion, doubt, anger of course but I think I also see a bit of admiration there as well. I see enough to give me hope for our happiness if only Erik will open his heart and let me and the children in for if he cannot accept Jason and Amanda into our home then even if I find I am in love with him as I believe then I cannot stay with him either. It is all or nothing.

Erik has not reached out to touch me so it is up to me to make that first connection. Fearing he may make a scene I grasp his hand praying I am right in my belief that Erik cares for me even if he cannot or will not as of yet admit to doing so. When I feel a gentle pressure upon my hand I have to close my eyes for a brief moment to send a thank you to God. I know I said the correct words in the right places but honestly I don't remember any of it. I could repeat word for word what Erik said but not my own vows. His voice sounded strong and resonated around the church with something that sounded like a promise in his tone. I don't know what religious background Erik has or if he has any but if he does have some Christian convictions maybe the marriage vows will be sacred to him as they are to me.

After we are pronounced husband and wife we stare into one another's eyes wondering I suppose what we should do now. The shouting around us draws our attention and it becomes plain what everyone is expecting. Lifting up my veil I look up at Erik to convey my willingness to have him place his lips on mine. He bends down then hesitates with only an inch between our mouths. Placing my hands on either side of his face I pull him down to me. What I imagine we both intended to be only an obligatory salutation changed into something more heated and intense the moment our lips met.

Erik did not grind his lips into mine. On the contrary his kiss felt as soft as butterfly wings, at least at first. Once we had adjusted to the strangeness of our mouths touching I think perhaps some instinct we are unaware of took over as we both moved our mouths one against the other. The friction of this action started a low burn in my belly. Before I knew what was happening we were devouring one another as if to swallow the other whole. I felt my feet leave the floor thinking I was floating on some sexually induced lightness from the intensity of our emotions.

Whatever I may have dreamed or thought a kiss should be I now knew that everything I thought I knew was only the tip of the iceberg. With all of me flush against Erik he could not hide his reaction to me. At least I wasn't so naïve and ignorant not to know what a man experiences when aroused by a woman. I had read books, not many as they have been banned but there are those progressive women in town who believe knowledge is power and women have as much right to power as men do. I shall make it a point to become friendlier to those women so I may learn more about what goes on between women and men. I want to please Erik in that way so he does not regret having me for his wife instead of someone else who shall remain nameless. I will not refer to her by name ever again in fear that I may invoke her presence by doing so.

Our well wishers laughingly pat us on the back commenting that this display would be better saved for later when the door is closed and the lights turned down. Erik and I exchange a look and I guess we are both wondering the same thing, will we share a room and therefore a bed? He had said we would not but maybe with a little persuasion on my part I can change his mind. Now we just have to get through lunch and then we can head home.

The women begin to carry in baskets of food while the men move the pews to the side walls so that makeshift tables can be erected to eat our meal on. Erik is pulled away by the men and the women take me in hand. I have avoided speaking to Jason and Amanda but it will be necessary before we head home. I don't want them to worry about any of this. They didn't mean anything bad by what they did. To them it is a simple matter of Erik needing help and we provided it. They don't know about the more grownup side of life and relationships between men and women although Jason has told me some shocking things that go on in town. People should remember that children see and hear more than we give them credit for.

At last everything is set out and it is time to take our seats. Prayer is said and then toasts have to be gotten through. Erik and I are of necessity sitting shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. I know it is not possible but I swear I can feel every ripple of his muscles as he moves. His voice draws my ear like a magnet. Everyone else recedes as I pick up his deep tones. Just thinking about him whispering in my ear, in that same tone, nearly drowns me with a strange and unfamiliar yearning. This must be the forerunner of what women feel later when a man possesses them in the most carnal way two humans can come together.

If anyone had asked what I ate I could not tell them or truthfully say if I had eaten anything. Every ounce of my being was focused on Erik and what I hoped would come later for us. I wouldn't press him about anything. From what little I know of Erik anything intimate will have to seem to be his idea. I can encourage but not push. In that respect he is like Jason and Amanda. Sweet promises of rewards bring out their cooperation quicker than most threats.

By the time we are ready to head home the children are nearly falling asleep on their feet. With helping hands we are soon seated and ready to leave. I try to ignore the knowing looks and well meant teasing and hope that Erik can take it in the spirit it is delivered. He has been silent for the most part at least when in my company. If he were a younger man I would say he was displaying nervousness. The angry lines on his forehead and the tight press of his lips had faded as time passed. Maybe he has begun to see that this may not be so terrible after all. It may even have benefits he might enjoy. Best not to go too deeply into that line of thinking or I may tip my hand and do something to upset Erik. He isn't like most men that much has been evident from our first meeting. He has more protective walls around him than anyone I have ever met. With Uncle Charlie he had been lowering them one by one. If I can get him to talking about Uncle Charlie, that might lead him to looking at me as something other than an enemy. That kiss we shared today didn't seem like one a person would give to another person they thought of as an enemy. I haven't been able to uncurl my toes all day.

On this return trip I let Erik take the reins. If this is my subconscious trying to show him I have placed myself in his hands I hope he will pick up the gauntlet and forge ahead masterfully. I wouldn't mind being conquered as long as the one doing the conquering would be Erik. I would gladly surrender to him and lay down my weapons without compunction.

Erik pulls up in front of the porch. With his leg still not able to bend it is hard for him to climb up and down from the buckboard. In town I had let him keep his dignity by busying myself with good-byes thus allowing him to climb aboard with a few manly helping hands. He like as not hated that too but would hate me seeing his weakness more. This morning I had made excuses of checking on fires, lamps and candles to give him the time he needed to get seated.

"Erik since you cannot unhook the horse or bed him down would you please aid the children into bed? You don't need to carry them but just see to it that they make it to their beds. For tonight I think they can forego changing into nightclothes."

Erik tries to hide the relief he feels from me but I saw a flash of it before he turned his head away. Someday he will not want or need to hide anything he feels from me. My hope is I can keep how I feel from him until he is ready. I know what I want to happen tonight and if Erik were any other man likely I'd not have to ask twice or even once to have him coming to my bed.

My mind is so consumed with what may happen in a short time I am functioning by rote. I hardly notice the cold as I strike a match and light the lantern hanging on a hook by the door. The fresh smell of hay greets me as I step inside the barn. A soft snort behind me reminds me that I have a job to do. Little time is wasted in settling the animal down in his cozy stall. My steps are light and quick on the return trip to the house. My heart is pounding in anticipation of what might happen next. If I have my way I should like to experience a few more of Erik's kisses. His lips are hard yet felt soft when pressed against mine. If he were a match and I the tender I don't think a hotter fire could have been lit inside of me. My lips even now tingle from the memory.

All is quiet when I go inside. Erik has left a candle at the bottom of the stairs for me. What a thoughtful thing to do. Going upstairs I find is a faster trip than it would normally be. Pausing outside the door of what used to be Uncle Charlie's room I only hesitate a moment before grasping the doorknob. Much to my surprise it will not turn. Looking up and down the hall I know there is no one outside this room who will hear me rattling the knob but out of confusion I did look then dropped my eyes down to the offending knob in my hand. Well this makes how Erik feels crystal clear. Well so much for all my fantasies. Hands on hips I let out a frustrated huff of air. If he thinks this will put an end to what I have planned he doesn't know how determined I can be. Round one to you Mr. Erik Delacroix but round two, three, four and so on will go to Mrs. Erik Delacroix.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Water on Stone **_**Erik**_

I cannot help but look at Jo as she sits wearing what normally would be a very circumspect night attire. For the life of me I am not able to keep her in that innocent light. I should have foreseen how difficult this would be the day we wed. Looking as she had I should have known that image of her would be burned into my brain. At times I get a glimpse of something in her eyes that leads me to believe not all is innocent that goes on in her mind either. I won't act on my supposition just in case I am reading things into the situation that are not there. That had happened before and led to terrible actions on my part.

God in heaven this woman intends to kill me with kindness. Nothing has gone as I thought it would when I locked my bedroom door. I foresaw her coming to my room that first night in order to wish me a good-night and to inquire if I needed anything before she retired. My plan had been to pretend to have fallen asleep. The first rattle of the knob and I nearly bolted from the bed I was so tense with expectation. Later when I could reflect on my actions more objectively it occurred to me that if I had merely been falling asleep I would not have locked the door. That wooden barrier had been my silent way of putting up an extra wall between me and Jo. I don't trust myself around her and I have found over the last three days that there is good reason for me to worry.

Without being overly heavy-handed I have tried my best to be polite just as I always was but with an added distance in my interaction with her. She is either less intelligent than I gave her credit for or she is foiling me at every turn on purpose. Without my permission she fetched my slippers from my own bedroom at my house. Daily things show up that used to reside in my home. If this continues my reasonable explanation to stay here until I can get around better will be all for nothing. All of my belongings will have ended up here leaving my home barren of any comforts.

I had thought I'd delay my recovery just long enough that when I could manage by myself I then would suggest we part company, at least as man and wife. Now Jo has been slowly moving me into her home without so much as a by-your-leave. I do like having my things around me especially my music sheets, pen and ink. Suddenly my mind is humming with so many different tunes. I find myself humming and drumming my fingers in rhythm with whatever music is inside my head at the time. If this continues I'll have no need to worry about an excuse not to move them into my home for I shall be the moving.

Where Jo found such alluring nightclothes I can't begin to imagine. Surely she has never worn anything so feminine in her life other than that dress to church and her borrowed wedding gown. Maybe she kept them buried at the bottom of a trunk just waiting for an opportunity to wear them so as to drive a man insane. All but her hands, head and feet are covered. There is not one speck of color on the cotton gown but for the life of me I can't drive the image of her out of my mind as hard as I try. Christine wore less when on stage for certain when I brought her to my home under the opera house that first time. What Jo does to me covered from chin to ankles, is incomprehensible. Just to see her toes peeking out from under the hem has me hardening at the most inconvenient times. When had feet become so erotic? When she curls her toes it is all I can do to refrain from groaning in frustration.

When we are together I recite poems, complicated mathematical equations and anything else I can think of to take my focus off of her. If I did not know for certain she would not lead a man on in this way I could put the blame for my torment on her. It is I who have thoughts not fit to air in the open. It is my mind that conjures up all manner of situations where we are not circumspect in any sense of the word. Her innocent smiles nearly drive me to the liquor cabinet on a daily basis. Something has to change or I'll do something regrettable. Here I am a married man living in a home as I always wanted and I am more miserable than ever. This situation is too much like dangling riches before a reformed thief. Sooner or later he will snatch at the treasure before him and damn the consequences. I feel I am like that thief. I am about to tear down my own walls and lay claim to that which by God and man's law are mine to do with as I choose. Only Charlie's good opinion of me has kept my lustful imaginings from manifesting into reality.

At this moment we are gathered around the fire with the children sitting at our feet waiting expectantly for one of my stories. If anyone would have told me I would be doing anything so normal as to recite stories to a young boy and girl while my wife sits at my side smiling for all the world as if she would rather be no other place, well, I would have thought they were mocking me and likely killed them and yet here I am doing exactly that.

"Papa Erik tell us the one about the char girl who ends up with her prince. You know, Cinderella." With Amanda looking up at me with such a look of pure admiration and dare I say it, love for me, it slipped my notice what she had called me for a few moments. Before I can say anything and indeed I find myself tongue tied, Jason pipes up with his opinion of his sister's choice of story and what she called me.

"Amanda, can't you get anything right? You were supposed to call him Papa, not Papa Erik. What father wants to be called by his name? Sometimes I forget you are still a baby. Speaking of babies, only babies want to hear stories about stupid old princesses and yucky old love." He bats his eyes and waggles his head in a silly round motion on the last word so as to express his opinion of that emotion.

I look to Jo for help but as her eyes are glittering with unshed tears there will be no help from that quarter. I am on my own to wade through these choppy waters. Never would I believe to hear anyone address me as Papa or anything else that is used to refer to fatherhood. It is for damn sure I had thought I would never be a father yet here a child is ready to adopt me as such. When she gets to her feet and crawls up onto my lap I feel my chest tighten and my throat begin to clog with unshed tears. I cannot give into shameful tears, not now when this young impressionable child has just given me something so precious as her complete trust.

Clearing my throat I say gruffly as I stroke Amanda's soft hair, "She may call me Papa Erik if that is what she prefers and stories of love are never as you say "yucky". I am here to inform you that even pirates have found time for romance as do many of the lawless in your own country such as Jesse and Frank James. It would serve you well to remember that behind every great man there is a good woman." Can I help it if at that moment my glance turns to Jo and we look for long moments into one another's eyes?

"Papa Erik, I mean Papa, I would rather call you Papa but I didn't want you to think you had to say yes." Amanda's head is now resting over my heart and I am feeling such warmth as I have never felt before. So this is what it feels like when someone loves you. Not to be outdone Jason comes to lean against my leg. Of course he is so much more mature at six than Amanda's childish five that he has to remain somewhat nonchalant about the whole business of love and how to express it. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around them both and hold on until my arms will not hold them any longer. I settle for a quick firm hug.

"So Papa, about those pirates and love, how does that work? Aren't they out at sea keel hauling stuff and making men walk the plank? How'd they make time for mushy stuff?"

Jason and Amanda exchange a brother and sister private exchange. I have a feeling that this evening had been discussed and planned between the two of them in great detail except for how to address me. As siblings do they had different ideas and so used both giving me the responsibility for choosing which I preferred. My life would be complete if…but no I shan't be greedy. This life I have now is more than I ever had or expected. I shall enjoy what I have while I have it. Too soon it will be ripped from my grasp. I don't want it to end but end it must. I cannot live much longer wanting Jo so badly and not having her. I went through hell once because of a woman and had less connecting us than I have with Jo.

To appease both Jason and Amanda I meshed the two stories together. Where this new talent for telling of children's stories comes from doesn't matter, what matters is I do have it and can connect on their level in this way. If I believed Jo would keep the children from me after we part there would not be any question of me getting closer to them. As it is I still must keep some small part of myself locked away or risk pain such as I never want to experience again. This would be far worse than what happened in Paris as with Jo there is nothing but my own insecurities keeping me from chancing getting closer to her.

At the end of the story Jo sends the children to wash their faces and brush their teeth. She'll go up to tuck them in after a few minutes. For three nights I have waited to be asked to join her but no invitation has been forthcoming. I could ask but that seems too much like begging for a crumb.

Jo stands up and stretches giving me a good view of her womanly form. If so much as the hem of her pristine white gown touches me I'll not be responsible for what happens next. For three nights I have felt a storm brewing inside of me and there must be some outlet to relieve me or I shall explode. I expect her to say her usual good-night then leave me here to suffer through my frustrations alone.

"Well are you going to sit there all night like a log? They'll be waiting for us to come up. I expected them to ask you first about whether you would like to take on the roll of father but I guess they thought they would spring it on you so you had little choice. I hope they didn't make you think you had to tell them you wanted to be called Papa. It may interest you to know that they called their own father Papa. Whether you know it or not it says a lot about how they feel about you."

After she asked me to accompany upstairs the rest of what she said sort of became a vague hum in my ears. With great effort on my part I managed to take in most of what she said.

"I am honored they think of me as someone worthy to stand in for their father. I know I can't replace him and I wouldn't try. What I can do is try to do my best to influence them positively and teach them all I know." There is a voice inside my head telling me that if she knew half what I had done in my past she'd toss me out into the snow and barricade the doors. This is a real chance for me to redeem myself. If I can contribute to making Jason and Amanda the best adults they can be then in some small way I will have made amends for a few of my sins.

Reaching out I let Jo help pull me to my feet. Unsteadily I stagger into her. Grabbing her around the waist and pulling her against me is not one of my more intelligent moves. With her pressed so closely to me I can feel every breath she takes and every beat of her heart. She must also feel mine as it is pounding heavily against the inner wall of my chest. Her hands resting gently on me feel like weights pressing down on me as it becomes harder to breath normally. Before I can stop what I am about to do my head is lowering toward hers and I do not stop until I feel her soft mouth under mine. The inner beast in me wants to crush her lips with mine and lay my claim to her but some still working part that is not influenced by lust gives me the strength to only taste her with soft sweeps of my tongue across hers then I capture her lips more fully but still with tenderly caressing movements. It is Jo who puts a stop to this testing of my will by wrapping her arms around my neck and opening her mouth to allow my tongue to swoop in and freely explore the inner recesses of her sweetness.

Jo is not the sort of woman who would tease a man so cruelly if she did not intend for it to go further. She would not offer herself unless it meant more than mere physical release. As badly as I want to take all she appears to be offering me I know I must call a halt to this before it is beyond the point of no return which in my case will be in just a few scant seconds. We could take this to the obvious conclusion and perhaps have regrets later or we can part now with the understanding that we, I, will be pursuing this at a later date.

"Jo we must stop." I place my finger on her lips as my forehead rests against hers. Inhaling deeply to aid in my own recovery of my over stimulated senses I then continue, "Just for now. I am certain of what I want but before I do anything that cannot be undone we must think long and hard about this. There are things about me you must know if you are going to make such an irrevocable commitment. If you are still of the same mind afterward then…well until then please do not tempt me to toss my good intentions to the wayside. I fear my resistance to you is not what I would like for it to be."

Clear blue sapphires glisten up at me reflecting the light in the room. What I see in those deep blue depths is what I have longed for all of my life. Lest it is my own desires having me see things that are not real I will hold fast to my convictions. It may cripple me physically and mentally but if we share the most intimate of embraces I will know without doubt it is what she wants and not just some altruistic gesture on her part. The warmth of her hands wrapped around my wrists settles the matter as to whether I am dreaming this whole encounter. She is as real as I am.

"We shall do as you want Erik but know that I won't go back to being only occupants in the same house. We will treat one another as married people do. I want us to share a marriage bed but if you ask me to wait to give me time to think about it, then it is you who has doubts, not me. Make no mistake Erik, I want you, I have for quite some time. As you say we don't know one another very well. I should like to hear about your life and if it is something terrible please know that I will not judge by only your past but by your present. Uncle Charlie trusted you implicitly or he would not have invited you into our home. He would not have asked for you to keep an eye on me and the children. He entrusted his most valuable assets to you. For me that says a lot about who you are now. I don't care about something that happened thousands of miles from here. It is done and must be faced. Just believe that I will be with you to face everything. You are no longer alone Erik. You have family. Me, Jason and Amanda are your family."

Her words rang in my ears long after she had gone. So completely had she disarmed me I took no notice she had left me. The fire popping and crackling drew my attention just as a spark flew out burning a hole in my pant leg. If I didn't snap out of this the whole house may well go up in a blaze. Grabbing the poker I stir the hot coals until they spread out over the bottom. I add some wood for the night without really thinking of what I am doing. All my attention is on what Jo said just as she left, well that and the closeness we shared and her promise of more to come. Bending down I place the fire screen in front of the now roaring fire. The heat from it is no less than the heat in my loins. Where I had learned how to deal with such delicate matters is a mystery. Perhaps this sensual side of me that had been awakened by Christine had now matured into an adult man's emotions. I did not feel crazed or possessive to the point of murder, of course there is no one here vying for Jo's affections and therefore I will not be put to the test. It is my hope that maturity will keep me on the path to sanity.

Only for a moment do I hesitate outside Jo's bedroom door. It would be so easy to give in to my inclination to bed her and to hell with tomorrow. That is not what I want at all. I want everything, the peace, love and sense of belonging that comes with family. God must believe in me or why would he entrust three innocents into my potentially dangerous hands?

I have a chance to obtain it all and I will do everything within my power to achieve keeping it all.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Early post today in the hope of lifting my spirits as well as any reader in need of some Erik cheer. **

**Chapter Eight**

**Love is in the Air **_**Jo**_

I should have been up hours ago but with the remainder of my dreams lulling me into lazy reflections of what happened between Erik and I a couple of nights ago dancing around in my head my dreams last night had been very steamy. There are only a couple of days until Christmas and I know what I shall ask to be put under my tree, Erik with a big red bow.

Knowing why he stopped things the other night and liking his decision do not necessarily coincide with how I feel. I have little choice in the matter than to continue to do what I have been doing all along; show Erik how right we are together. We have yet to speak about his past but I can see that he is thinking serious thoughts most of the time. Pushing him will only end up with him leaving or something crazy like that so I must play his waiting game. I agreed to do that but I did not agree to make it easy for him. I have used almost all of my scented soaps trying to tease his masculine senses. I read somewhere that people use there senses for most of what they do. The sense of smell can bring about pleasant thoughts or in my case I hope not so nice thoughts.

Naughty and nice brings up the subject of Jason and Amanda. They want Erik to be a father but are torn by also wanting him to be Santa Claus. I will not be disabusing them as to the authenticity of Erik being who they think he is as they have been on their best behavior ever since our wedding and even before that they had curbed their quarrelling. This morning I believe they have roped Erik into helping them with breakfast. It is nice to have someone wait on me for a change. Amanda had come upstairs to inform me my presence would not be needed until breakfast had been served. I hate to see what mess they will leave for me. Hearing the laughter coming from below, especially Erik's, I can't bring myself to object too strenuously.

Today I have some special plans in mind for Erik. He needs to be shown how wonderful it is to have a family by doing things together as a family outside the home. We do things inside because we are forced into one another's company but outside it is open territory and he could wander off anywhere if he wished. I want him to want to be with us. We haven't built our annual snowman or had one single snowball fight. I am even going to bring in some snow and make ice-cream. Drop a little strawberry jam on top after adding sugar, salt and vanilla and you have a tasty treat. It will need to set outside for a while after mixing in order to have the right consistency. The wait is well worth it and I hope it will sweeten Erik up so that he will be open to a few more treats from me later on tonight. I have made up my mind that he will either sleep in my bed tonight or I will be sleeping in his. We are over thinking everything too much. I am so close to loving him if I don't already and I hope he feels the same. I will ask him to sit with me after the children go to bed. Tonight he will tell what it is that has been troubling him about his past. The part about that Christine person I wouldn't mind skipping but know he feels he must tell me everything.

He has indicated that some of what he has to impart is so terrible I may not be able to forgive him or understand why he did those things. My mind is filled with all the horrible things men can do to others and even with those in my mind I still feel I can bring myself to forgive just about anything. Murder is one of God's most condemned sins but I know that with a civil war only a few short years in my countries past men have murdered in the name of freedom and not all of it sanctioned by the laws of war. What has happened to the Indian Nation is deplorable. I have not been a party to any of this but know men who have been. They live in town and walk about free and not held accountable for their crimes because a war is declared. Who is to say all those atrocities were necessary? It is not for me to judge others, only myself. I may have an opinion but in the end every man's conscience is his own.

Whipping the covers aside I dress quickly as my fire has burned down to mere coals. The downstairs will be toasty from the oven baking biscuits which I can smell and they are making my stomach growl in an unseemly manner. I can't help but look forward to the mornings when Erik is in my bed keeping me toasty from the inside out. Over the last few months I have become quite the little tart and my sinful downward spiral can be pinpointed to the day I first met Erik. I suppose the flustered feeling inside of me at the time confused me and I mistakenly took it for dislike. I hadn't been attracted to anyone the way I am toward Erik. That man opens his mouth and I get all aquiver. Those French mademoiselles must be daft or blind. Oh well, there misfortune is my good luck.

Just as I am about to step down into the main living area I catch Jason's serious tones speaking to Erik. I have to smile at his questions. I listen in shamelessly waiting to see how Erik will deal with this man to man talk.

"Erik now that you are part of the family there are some things you should know and some things I feel I must ask."

I peek around the corner to see Jason standing in front of the fireplace with his hands behind his back. Erik has taken a seat in front of him so that they are on a similar level.

'First off I think it is only fair to inform you that sometimes Jo sort of whistles in her sleep." I want to protest that I certainly do not whistle but refrain from giving away my hiding spot.

"Second Amanda and I noticed that you and Jo don't share a room. If it's the whistling she stops if you nudge her into a different position. Last spring Mr. and Mrs. Danvers started sleeping in different houses and then she left town and ain't been heard from since. You and Jo…well what I, we want to know is…awe shucks. Are you and Jo gonna start sleepin together or ain't ya?"

If I wasn't so embarrassed I would step in and grab him by the ear and make a trip to the woodshed. What I'd do then I am not sure as I have never swatted either Jason or Amanda. I will be taking him to task about his deplorable vocabulary. He is picking up far too many phrases from cowhands and those hooligans he runs with on our trips to town. I suppose it isn't his fault altogether as I have been lax in teaching them since Erik has been here. I hear Erik clear his throat to speak but before he can do so Jason weighs in with another question. This one I suspect is the most important one to him.

"So Erik, now that you and Jo are married, what is the rule about Santa leaving gifts for relatives, say maybe a girl and boy around five and six? Does that mean no more presents? Don't seem fair if that is the rule. Maybe we could change it, make up a whole new set of rules."

I could hear the excitement building in his voice. It would appeal to him to think he had the power to make the rules that Santa would have to abide by. I could see piles of presents whether he had been good or bad. This is not a situation that Erik has foreseen in his future and it had not been something that occurred to me either.

"Well young man as to whether or not Jo and I will or will not be sharing a…a room, that is something that is a private matter and as a gentleman I ask for your agreement that we not discuss this further. I will say that if left to me Jo and I will not be separating any time soon. As for the presents, if that is all that Christmas means to you this evening we shall all sit down and I will retell the story of the first Christmas. I will say that any presents from me to you and Amanda will be given as your…as your father and not as Pere Noel." Erik must have seen the confusion on Jason's face for he added in English, "My pardon, not as Santa Claus."

If occurred to me that Erik did not disabuse Jason of the idea that he was indeed the one and only Santa. That could work in my favor as it will keep Amanda and Jason guessing and possibly keep misdeeds to a minimum. Deciding I had better rescue Erik before Jason gets any more personal and asks questions better left unspoken I make my entrance.

"Jason have you two left your sister in the kitchen on her own? You better hope the kitchen doesn't catch fire."

"Awe shucks..." My glare of censure makes him rephrase his words.

"Well Jo everything is warming on top of the stove, the table is set and all she is doing is scooping out some butter from the churn. Even a baby can do that. Besides that's women's work and Erik and I had men's talk to discuss." I really must speak to him about his chauvinistic attitude toward his sister before it begins to spread toward other females he meets. I won't wound his male ego and remind him that if we keep him out of the kitchen when we are cooking he pouts like a two year old being deprived of a sweet. He enjoys sharing those moments of preparation just as he enjoys the hands when they are around doing all those things boys love to do. Even Amanda and I like those things sometimes, at least those times when we don't have to get involved with the less pleasant aspect of outdoor work. We do it as all hands are needed but we'd rather be inside doing "women's work" as Jason calls it.

"If everything is ready what are we waiting for? I have plans for today and they don't include staying in the house all day vegetating."

Confusion and something that looks like worry comes over Erik's face at my words. What could he find within what I said that would cause worry? If I knew maybe I could save him stress by soothing away his concern. I do like the image that pops into my head of me running my fingers across his furrowed brow as he leans against my chest. I do like Erik's strong masculine side but it is nice to know that a man can have a more tender side as well. He doesn't like to show that side of him very often and becomes all grizzly bearish when caught in one of those unguarded expressions of tenderness.

Something compels me to Erik's side to offer aid as he struggles to his feet. Wrapping my hands around his arm I can't help but feel the powerful muscle beneath my twitching fingers. I'd like nothing more than to remove his shirt and feel that taught skin with my fingertips. I got a taste of what he feels like when I took care of him. I have to say I was bolder than I should have been but not bold enough to satisfy my curiosity about certain things. I am not so brazen as to come right out and ask Erik what I want to know but if I can convince him we belong together he will show me the answers to my questions rather than tell me.

I am becoming somewhat of a vulgar woman and it is all Erik's fault. Men before were just people I worked beside not someone I drooled over or speculated about in such vivid imagery. Honestly though before I saw Erik I wouldn't have known what to speculate about as I had not seen what a man looks like underneath his clothing. Uncle Charlie had been diligent in keeping me from learning what differences there were between men and women. He would have filleted any man who so much as removed his shirt in my presence.

When I grew close to the age of becoming a woman he sent me to Mrs. Flanders for a little talk. He thought a school teacher would have the skills to enlighten me as to what I could expect in my future within a year or so. I came away from that encounter with more questions than answers. Doc Ellis came to Uncle Charlie's rescue when my womanly curse arrived. I thought I had some dreaded incurable disease and would soon die. Beside himself Uncle Charlie had taken me to see Doc Ellis. Clinically and with the aid of pictures from medical books he showed me the workings of the insides of women. I do wish I had the forethought to ask to see the inner workings of a man. That information may have gone a long way in helping me understand what all is going on inside Erik. Does he feel the same fires and urges whenever we are in close proximity?

Below my waist feels as if a furnace has been lit and left permanently burning full blast. At times it is downright uncomfortable. I know all of this heat and yearning is preparation for something bigger. Men and women have been coming together for…well for as long as there have been women and men. I want to join the rank and file of people who have been to this mating ritual and at last see what comes after the burning fires.

Today I will be working on luring Erik into my bed. Oh what a Jezebel I have become and I can't say I am sorry for any of it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Saint or Sinner **_**Erik**_

Her declaration that she will not be here in the house causes me alarm. She has decided to go to town, without me? I don't care for the plummeting feeling in my stomach. Trying to sooth my agitation I tell myself it is only a trip to town, one where she might meet some man, one who will be bright enough to see all she has to offer, a man more handsome than I am and one without a murderous past. This is the point that I realize I am no longer the master of my heart as Jo has it in the palm of her hand.

As we head for the kitchen Jason asks the question burning inside my brain, "What are you going to do Jo?"

"Well after the milking and feeding I plan to build the largest snowman ever. After that or maybe during that I plan to make several very round snowballs equipped with absolute accuracy. I shall toss one and hit you right here." She pauses in her stride to point with her finger in the middle of his stomach causing him to laugh. I want to laugh out loud myself and pick Jo up and whirl her around but they might think I have gone mad so I pretend that nothing earth shattering has happened. I pretend that Jo, with a few simple words, hasn't made me the happiest man in the world. I am becoming soft and pathetic and isn't it wonderful?

No one wants to linger over breakfast this morning. With chores assigned to everyone work will quickly be done so we can get to the fun part of the day. My assigned task of necessity is less physical than what the others are doing. Disgust I am sure is covering my face as I peer down at my midsection at the frilly apron Jo tied around my waist. I am relegated to doing the dishes. I make a solemn promise that Jo shall pay for her impertinence. I may be slightly incapacitated but I am not so weak and helpless I could not at least push the wheel barrow filled with wood from the woodpile out back to the porch. I am sure this is her way of getting at me. From the glint in her eye I do believe she is looking forward to my retaliation and being a gentleman I cannot disappoint her.

So many intriguing ways to gain retribution fill the time as I mindlessly wash the dishes and put them away. By the time I limp outside the others have already begun to build what looks like a lopsided, oddly shaped, impressionistic replica of a man. It warms my heart every time Jo warns the children to be careful of me. She has even stepped in front of a few of the missiles Jason has playfully thrown my way. Daringly at one point I grab Jo and stuff the snowball I have made down the back of her neck.

Her shriek at the contact of cold against her warm neck is gratifying. I think it a fair repayment for leaving me to do the cleanup in the kitchen, not that I really minded. I am finding I like to do some of the inside chores as it gives me a sense of belonging.

"Oh Erik you shall pay for that. You had best be looking over your shoulder from now on. I shall get you when you least expect it. I will pounce and you won't know what hit you." Why do I get the impression that she is not talking about some snowball? From the seductive tug of her lips while her eyes make unspoken promises I have to say I can't wait for my punishment. Never have I anticipated punishment more than at this moment.

As the last snowball is thrown we focus on our man of snow. Jason looks over at his sister and Jo. Jerking his head to the side I believe it is his intention for me to come closer. Warily I do so not knowing what to expect from this little trickster.

"Erik, have you ever heard of mistletoe?" It seems to be an innocent question but as I have learned he has hidden bombs in his words just waiting to explode in the face of an unsuspecting person.

"No. Is it something Jo would like?" I ask innocently. I hear a snicker from him that worries me. What about that would cause him merriment?

"Oh she likes it alright. In fact she would like for it to be hung all over the house. She loves the stuff. Nothing makes her happier than seeing mistletoe hung up during Christmastime." I can clearly hear hidden meaning in his words but I am not one who can read children well. I cannot see the harm in hunting for this mistletoe he speaks of and since it will please Jo it will be my pleasure. First I must have him tell me what it is and what it looks like. It will also help to know where to find it.

Eagerly he tells me all about this mysterious mistletoe. What he describes does not seem all that impressive to me but for Jo I will search high and low for what is more a nuisance than a plant anyone would normally care to have growing around them. Women are odd creatures to be sure as I learned dealing with Madame and Christine. Jo and Amanda have their odd moments as well. I don't think it is chauvinistic of me at all to think men are much easier to read and deal with by far than an unstable female of the species. For all that I still would rather have Jo and Amanda as companions than any man I have ever known or rather heard about is more correct in my case.

As the snowman is finished it is as if some silent signal had gone off as I am bombarded with round balls of snow once again. Had we not had an agreement for a cease fire? To think I have missed this all my life. Is this what Christine and Meg did on those days they would go to the park during heavy snows when I stayed behind worrying if Christine would catch a cold? If I had known perhaps I could have joined in. A scarf around my face would have allowed me to go out without upsetting anyone.

It is my own fault most of the years I lived in seclusion, I can see that now. With some small effort on my part I could have lived a more normal life. I hadn't wanted to chance it though and so hid myself away. Many others were at fault for what my life had become but in the end it had been up to me to make the most of what I had. All the what ifs in the world won't change the past but at least now I won't live out my life deluding myself that everything is to be blamed on all of humanity. Much to my amazement I am not unlovable. It may not be love that Jo feels for me but I get a glimmer every once in a while in her eyes that leads me to believe she may have strong feelings for me. The children are much easier to understand when it comes to caring. Be kind to them and let them come close and they are willing to accept a person. It is true children can be unbelievably cruel to others but if led in the right direction with strict boundaries and clear moral guidance they are blank slates waiting to have their lives painted on life's canvas.

Jo's earlier threat to retaliate is an idle one as she continues to prevent anyone from tripping me or hurling projectiles that would cause me to fall. I want to join in there game of making snow angels but doubt if I could get back up from the ground. Their laughter is contagious. I find my cheeks are aching from the unaccustomed tightening of my facial muscles in so many smiles in quick succession. If nothing more comes of this new life I shall be grateful for this little slice of heaven.

Jo at last calls a halt to our mini war. I can't say I have ever lost so thoroughly and not minded in the least. Truthfully I didn't give my best effort as Jo's laughter drew my attention more than once. Working as a team we help the children out of their outer wear and I am surprised when Amanda takes my hand and leads me to the bench by the back door. Motioning for me to sit down she lifts her face up to mine with a broad smile on her cherubic face. If a person could melt from such sweetness I would be a puddle in the floor.

"Jo you and Jason go on and start lunch. I'll help Erik get his things off and bring him his slippers." The two youngsters exchange a look I have seen before. They have something up their sleeve. I hope I am not in for another session of questions about me and Jo's sleeping arrangements.

When Jo hesitates Jason grabs her hand pulling as he says, "Come on Jo. Amanda has something she wants to say to Erik." Crooking his finger for her to lean down he whispers, "It's something private."

Dear God help me. Am I to be spared nothing? I send Jo a beseeching look which she either doesn't see or is outright ignoring. Once they have left us Amanda lifts my left booted foot and valiantly tries to remove the heavy footwear. Luckily for me it is not my injured leg. Tapping her shoulder I lift my finger indicating for her to wait. Bending down I am able to pull the boot almost all the way off thus allowing her to remove it the rest of the way. More carefully I do the same for my right leg. It has almost healed completely and will soon be good as new. I am not ashamed to say I have let them believe I heal more slowly than most men. My near helplessness has earned me some very much appreciated pampering. At first I hadn't thought I'd take to the idea of anyone doing so much for me but I have to say once I got used to being waited on no one could tell that at one time I lived in the damp dark catacombs of an opera house for most of my childhood and adult life doing everything by myself when it came to personal care.

Clasping my hands once I have my slippers on my feet I wait for what will come next. Stepping closer to me she asks shyly, "Would you mind very much if I sat on your lap, not the hurt leg but the other one?" She softly pats my injured leg and I do believe she might have bent to place a kiss on it if I hadn't taken her under her arms and lifted her onto my thigh. I waited for the next step.

"Erik, I know you say you aren't Santa but if you were you'd have to say that wouldn't you?" She has a point there. Picking up steam she continues with her commentary as she picks at a button on my shirt. I do believe she is more nervous than she appears.

"Jason said there might be rules about giving presents to your own children. I just want you to know that if there is such a rule I'd rather have you as my father than any present in the world but just in case there aren't any rules like that I have a list of some things I wouldn't mind having if being broken hasn't set your toy making behind. I can do without anything this year if it means someone who needs them more than me will be without. I don't mind, really I don't. Besides, I already got what I prayed for in Sunday school, I got you as my new Papa. That's better than any old present." As if to reinforce her words she cups my face between her tiny hands and kisses me on my cheek. When she leans back with a wrinkled nose it is difficult to keep the smile from my lips. She does not like my scratchy beard.

I had thought she had said all she had to say but peering up at me with her innocent blue eyes she rubs my whiskers as she says, "I don't mind your scratchy old bear too much. Don't be mad but…well Jason and I have looked at your face while you were asleep. We don't think it's so terrible. You should have seen some of the soldiers coming home after the war and even now the ones fighting Indians get all scarred and burned. Wouldn't you love me if I fell and my face got ugly?"

For her it was a simple matter of just another scarred face. If only my deformity had been looked at in that way. When I was born the doctor and attending nurse told my mother some demon had come from her womb instead of a child. For years she believed me to be possessed by something the devil sent from hell. Jo, Jason and Amanda are rare individuals. Even some of the townspeople look at me strangely but for the most part they are willing to allow me to live in peace. I leave them alone and they leave me alone. Those individuals who attend church might be hypocritical and judgmental in most cases but not one of them has ever referred in a negative way to my face. My attitude, now that they do not appreciate at times. That part of me I can change with effort.

Tipping her chin up to me with my finger I hope I convey my sincerity as I say, "You could never be ugly. You are beautiful both inside and out just like your sister. I will…I do love you Amanda. It hasn't always been easy for me to love or be loved but I know that you, Jason and Jo are more important to me than anything in my life. You believe what you want to believe about me. If I am to be this man you hold so dear then who am I to tell you otherwise?" With that I kiss the tip of her nose to which she giggles then slips off my lap to run off but not before she hands me the oh so important list.

Before she leaves I think I may ask a few questions of my own. Jason seemed all too eager for me to find this mistletoe. It may well be something Jo is allergic to and this is his way to pull a prank and not get into trouble. "Amanda do you know what mistletoe is?"

The smile she gives me is blinding and if I didn't know better I'd say she was batting her eyes at me flirtatiously as she coos, "Oh Erik, are you going to put up mistletoe? Can I be the first? How clever of you to think of it. I wish I had thought of it."

"Jason suggested that I hang it all over the house to please Jo. Is that something Jo would like?"

She cocks her head to study me in a way I have seen older women look at men they were speculating whether to encourage them to come calling or not. At last with a slight nod of her head she says, "Well I suppose she likes it just fine. It isn't the mistletoe she'll like though, it's the kisses you'll have to give her when she stands underneath it that she will like best. I should have known Jason would think of this. He did carry a piece of it in his pocket for a whole six weeks once just so the girls would have to kiss him. He was quite popular for those weeks."

"So if I understand this correctly, whenever Jo is underneath a piece of this mistletoe, she must forfeit a kiss?" I want to be sure of my facts before I risk life and limb finding what I need.

"Well I don't know about four feet but she does have to kiss whoever asks her first if she is underneath it."

I am so excited I can't bring myself to correct her mispronunciation. All I can do is smile idiotically and give her a bear hug during which she squeals and wiggles in protest. Finally I let her go andshe kisses my cheek before she scampers off. Watching as she goes into the kitchen I remain sitting in the mudroom. I can hear them laughing and talking. I touch the place where she kissed me. A child kissed me and she did not catch fire or get transported to hell. Growing up I had never quite convinced myself that some part of the devil did reside in me. I did enough of his dirty work to earn me a place in hell if I am not able to find redemption. Placing my hands on my knees I rub them along my thighs. Perhaps it is time I seek advice from someone closer to God than I. Perhaps there is yet a way to be found to save me. I would hate to think I would spend eternity in hell while my family is in heaven. I have a family now, I cannot remain unrepentant for my sins.

Sitting here in the quiet alone with their voices in the background it slowly comes to me that if Jo and I do part all of this that I have experienced will no longer be available to me. Am I willing to let my pride and fear stand in my way to happiness? If there is even a slight chance would I not be a cowardly fool to let it slip through my fingers?

I cannot simply march up to her and demand my husbandly rights. Our becoming closer must be a gradual thing. I must show her that despite how I look and act I am not some lust starved fiend, although one could dispute that given all the images that constantly parade through my mind. My botched courtship of Christine aside I am completely in the dark as to how I should proceed. Women like a small thoughtful gesture rather than some easily bought display of affection. Jason has given me a way to express how I feel without having to say the words outright. I know they must be said at some point but this will do for now.

Tonight I will escort her to her room and kiss her gently on her lips. There will be no display such as what happened before. Even if it kills me I will take one step at a time toward winning her. As a prayer for strength leaves my lips to Gods ears it occurs to me I have never prayed so much or so fervently than I have this past month. Perhaps it is because I have something within my grasp that I finally believe will be awarded to me. Tomorrow with the house bedecked in mistletoe every room will be a trap laid by the spider to catch the fly. My purpose will have a better outcome for the fly than would be the case normally.

Throughout the evening meal I am a picture of gentlemanly manners. Praises for everything I can think of pepper the conversation. Amanda has a look of worship as her chin rests on her hands. Jo is staring at me with something similar but containing a more mature version of what Amanda is displaying. My plan is working far better than I could ever have hoped. Jason does his part by listing my many accomplishments and how handy I am to have around. I have fixed several broken parts on the old windmill and the pump out back. I have told him about things that in the future will be invented to make lives easier. I know about many of these things as I am intelligent enough to know the wave of the future is through industrialization and inventions that make lives easier. Already factories are churning out goods faster than ever before. I can feel my chest puffing in a most unbecoming way as he makes outlandish guesses as to how large my bank account is. Another man might think him vulgar for speaking about money in that way but if it furthers my cause who am I to object?

No one appears to want to linger by the fire tonight. It is as if we all know something momentous is about to happen. When I place my hands of the arm of the chair I notice they are slick with sweat. Quickly I put my hand up and brush it across my mouth. Sweat is coating my upper lip and my forehead. I knew I was nervous but this is ridiculous. I am a thirty-one year old man not a sixteen year old boy plotting to steal his first kiss from the girl he believes will be the love of his life. Perhaps I should wait for the power of the mistletoe when Jo will not be able to refuse me. Coward! I can hear myself shouting silently. I am tired of not having any belief in myself, tired of my lonely existence before coming here. Life does not jump out at a person you must chase after what you want and I want Jo, Amanda, and Jason.

Instead of following them upstairs I make a quick trip to the washroom to sluice off. If I had time I would splash a little of my after shave on my beard. Rubbing my hand over my face I feel the rough scruff scrape against the palm of my hand. I hope I don't mark her with all this rough hair. Wouldn't that be a lovely way to persuade her to let me kiss her again? I won't go back to wearing the mask but something has to be done about the scruff on my face. Besides does Jo not deserve to know just what I look like before she commits to anything permanent? We are married but only on paper thus far.

I'll not let any negative thoughts deter me from proceeding in my quest for a taste of Jo's sweet nectar. Climbing the stairs I can hear childish giggles coming from Amanda's room. Sometimes she persuades Jason to lie with her until she falls asleep. He scoffs at her for being a baby but he doesn't really mind being her protector as it gives him a sense of importance.

I wait at the top of the stairs so that I can make it appear I have just come up and happen to be there just when Jo leaves Amanda's room. Likely she will know this for the bit of subterfuge it is but she won't call me on it. This gives her an excuse as well to linger in the hall should she feel in need of one. Perhaps her reason will be the same as mine?

If my face shows my eagerness to be with her I can't help that. If my heart is beating so loudly and hard against the inner wall of my chest I think it might burst free at any moment it must be endured. Nerves, perspiration, doubts, fears, none of these will keep me from forging ahead. This is a test for me and it is one I shall not fail.

We meet just outside her door. Standing silently looking deeply into one another's eyes neither one of us hardly breaths as we exchange words without speaking. If what her eyes are saying is true then I do believe I can walk two feet above the ground my heart is so light.

Taking her by the shoulders gently I pull her unresistingly toward me. When I can feel all of her leaning into me I bend my head and without hesitation take her mouth at first in a gentle glide of lips against lips. Who opened their mouth in invitation first is hard to say and of little consequence as the fires within are stoked to a near blaze. I am fast loosing my control and from what Jo is doing to me with her lips, tongue and hands there will be no help from that quarter. Should I take advantage of this golden opportunity? No. I will not take her fully until I have told her everything about me and showed her just what sort of man she would be taking to her bed. She may deem me unfit to associate with her or the children. I believe her to be a more forgiving person than that but I have been wrong before. I won't take things any further until every detail of my life has been placed at her feet so she can make an informed decision about her husband.

Her arms going around my neck and going up on tiptoe plays havoc with my convictions. She is so temptingly sweet my head and body are drowning in sensations and urges. There is nothing I can do to stop myself from lifting her up so I can have easier access to her luscious lips. If ever there were sirens calling men to their doom I believe they were all called Jo. She is luring me in but I will welcome whatever befalls me by heeding her call.

With an agonized groan I set her down before I completely lose my head. Lifting my head away from temptation and putting her a few inches from me I drag in much needed air. She too is in need of life sustaining air. Passion does seem to deplete ones oxygen, the pleasure is such we have forgotten to breathe.

As she looks at me with dazed eyes I steal one last kiss then say in a voice barely recognizable as my own, "Not tonight. Tomorrow we shall have a talk. If afterward you feel the same then…well then we shall see. Make no mistake, I want you with everything I have within me but we…I can't let things go further until you know everything, know me."

When she would have made a protest I place my finger on her lips and say, "Tomorrow. You shall know all tomorrow." With a quick kiss I open her door and push her inside firmly shutting the door between us before my lust takes over and I lose sight of my better intentions. There are a few things I must accomplish yet tonight and one in particular will not be easy but the return for my effort will pay me grander than all the gold yet to be claimed from the earth.

Tomorrow night I will either be the happiest of men or one ready once again to rid the world of me. I don't think I can survive a rejection by Jo. What would be left for me?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I just realized I skipped a day. Lucky readers you'll get two chapters today. **

**Chapter Ten**

**Angel's Guiding Hand** **_Jo_**

My head is filled with Erik this morning, well that is no different than every other morning lately. What is different is that tonight we will not be going to separate beds. Nothing Erik could say to me will make any difference to how I feel about him. Even if he tells me he still loves that other woman I will still love him. I won't like knowing his affections are elsewhere but I can deal with that given time. I can make him love me if I show him how it is to be loved every day by someone willing to love him day to day. The heart does grow fonder with absence up to a point. Given no nourishment over a given time anything will eventually die. I feel Erik is right on the precipice just about to topple over the edge and I will be the lucky one to catch him. He doesn't even know how wonderful he is. I suppose he has not always had someone to tell him such things. It will be my lot in life to make him see everything me and the children see in him.

Today being Christmas Eve it will be difficult to have a moment alone with Erik until after the children are in bed. With them believing Erik is Santa Claus they likely will stay up far past their usual bedtime. That has been the case in the past and then they had no one living in the house to suspect of being anyone other than who they claimed to be. I have the doll tucked away safely along with the new rifle Uncle Charlie had bought months before he passed away to give to Amanda and Jason. Uncle Charlie and I had disagreed on the twenty-two but he had said that out here it is necessary for everyone to at least know how to fire a gun. With Indian raids still occurring I knew he was right but I didn't have to like it. Children should not have need of such desparate measures to protect themselves. I saved these things for a time that would not bring painful reminders to Jason or Amanda. What would have been birthday gifts will now sit under the tree. I believe enough time has passed for them to look on the gifts with fond memories rather than the fresh stab of pain it would have caused earlier had I given them those things on their birthday as Uncle Charlie had planned.

Erik had snuck out at the crack of dawn to go where I have no clue. Hearing the horses snickering I had gone to the window to investigate. I had been just in time to see Erik ride off in the direction of his home. If the whistling wind had not chosen just then to make itself heard, I wouldn't have been tempted back into my nice snug warm bed. Erik is nearly back to his old self but I still worry lest that darn horse of his spooks again. Knowing how much he has to live for he'll not take any unnecessary risks. I want to make this year extra special for us all but most of all for Erik. Money being tight during the winter I had to improvise a present for him. In the back of Uncle Charlie's wardrobe had been a dressing gown someone had given him at some point and not wanting to hurt the gift giver's feelings he had shoved it to the back of the closet rather than toss it out as I am sure he would have liked to do. I had never seen him wear it and hadn't known of it until I looked for clothes for Erik to wear.

It is a style gentlemen might wear during a leisurely morning supping tea and eating scones with family. Not Uncle Charlie's taste at all. The white fur at the cuffs and around the whole of the outer part of the garment gave it sophistication but also a somewhat dandyish look that would not have gone down well with the man Uncle Charlie was. Erik on the other hand dresses normally like a man about town. Even out here where there is little in the way of sophisticated tastes he dressed formally all the time. I could imagine that long burgundy clothe wrapped around him with nothing underneath. Oh lord the way my imagination takes wings and flies is astounding and quite breathtaking.

I want to give something personal to him as well so have been working diligently in spare stolen moments of privacy to embroider his initials and a few randomly placed roses on a piece of fine silk I bought at the second hand shop. It will make a fine scarf to wrap around Erik's neck. Would that I could be that scarf. I think it is a piece left over from a brides dress. If it were mine I'd have kept every scrap but lucky for me others aren't as sentimental about such things as I am. I have finished it and will wrap it and the dressing gown sometime this afternoon along with the presents for Jason and Amanda. I really can't linger much longer for I can hear the children in the other room. They'll be demanding breakfast in a little while. I have to say I am quite hungry myself. I wanted to wait for Erik to return but if we eat slowly enough he may join us before we finish. I'll keep the coffee pot warming in any case. When I here the clamouring of feet running downstairs I know I must at last leave my warm cacoon.

When I at last leave my room I am surprised by what I see. Even from the top of the stairs I can see massive amounts of mistletoe hanging almost everywhere I look. Erik has to be responsible for this. I could understand one sprig hanging in a doorway or from one of the beams near the fireplace but this is a declaration of intent or Erik merely likes this plant most consider a nuisance in their gardens. I will be certain to stand under every sprig in the house. My step is lighter as I trip down the stairs humming a Christmas song.

I don't even step down off the last stair before Jason comes running from the kitchen to declare piteously, "Jo my stomach is growling like an old grizzly bear. Would you believe it? Someone came during the night and ate the last cinnamon bun. I had dibs on that bun. Amanda says she didn't take it. Did you take my bun?"

"No I didn't take your bun. Perhaps Erik did. He left early this morning shortly before the sun came up. I guess he took it to eat on the way to wherever he is going."

Jason stops to stare up at me with wide eyes and mouth dropped open. His voice is filled with wonder when he asks, "Do you suppose it's for his sleigh ride tonight? It is Christmas Eve. Now I know how he manages to visit so many houses. He starts first thing in the morning. That makes perfect sense. Amanda and I have been watching him wondering if he'd leave a few days early but it makes better sense to deliver everything tonight, that way no one gets their feelings hurt."

He runs off shouting to Amanda before I can say one word, 'Amanda he is Santa Claus, he is for sure, I didn't believe it before but you were right. He ate my cinnamon bun to hold him over while he went to give those other boys and girls their toys. Wouldn't they be so jealous to know he lives with us? He's gone and won't be back until tomorrow. That's how he gets all those presents to all those people, he starts real early."

"Oh I just knew he was special. Uncle Charlie told me in a dream to look out for the angel but I think he meant Santa Claus. He told me the angel would bring great things to us. Wait until I tell that hoity-toity Madeleine Gruber we have Santa Claus living with us. That will show her to brag about her dreary old porcelain dolls and tea sets. I'd much rather we had Erik any old day." Lest she seem greedy she adds, "I'd want Erik even if he wasn't Santa Claus but he is so there Madeleine Miss Know It All Gruber."

"I have told you Erik is only a man just like any other," I protest half-heartedly. They will believe he is Santa whatever I say and I can't say it is anything that will hurt them. They will lose childish wonder far too early as it is. Why not let them have a few years of make believe?

"Well then explain why he is gone today, Christmas Eve," Jason demands with his arms obstinately crossed.

"He must have had an errand to run or any number of reasons for going out in the bitter cold while still hampered by his leg." To my own ears this is a weak reason and lends more credence to their argument than mine.

"Jo, you better watch what you say or he'll know and you won't get anything but a lump of coal in your stocking," Amanda whispers as she looks around as if to find Erik peering from around a corner in the kitchen. When she sees no one she continues to try to save me from myself by adding, "Just listen for a minute," she instructs then begins to count off on her fingers, "One, he has a beard. Two he makes toys. Three he likes children. Four, he didn't have to let us call him Papa. Five, he married you not us but doesn't mind having us here but most of all, what really makes me believe is how special Erik makes me feel. Whenever he says anything my insides feel funny and nothing seems as frightening as it used to be with him around."

"Yeah, he must be brave. Look how he took all what those old biddies…uh ladies in town said and didn't twitch an eye. If the two of you weren't going to get married I would've socked somebody," Jason manfully declares with hands on his hips and legs spread wide. I have seen Erik in a similar stance on a good number of occassions.

Amanda is as besotted with Erik as I am and who can blame her? He has done more with and for her than any father figure since Uncle Charlie. It isn't any wonder she adores him. Jason is falling under Erik's spell just like the rest of us. He feels much the same only his feelings for Erik are not for the same reasons as we women share. He does care for Erik in a father to son way but more than that Erik is someone Jason can look up to. Jason is an intelligent boy, far superior I think than I shall ever be. He needs someone like Erik to teach him more than he can learn here on the ranch or at the town's small school. For now the school will help teach him the basics but once his mind begins to mature and question everything I won't have the answers so it is my hope that Erik will share his vast knowledge with Jason. The two of them will make quite a pair once Jason comes into his own.

"Well now, I thought you both were hungry. If I was mistaken I think I'll go sit by the fire and read for a while."

"I am starving," Amanda declares clutching at her belly.

"Those old dirty boots by the back door look awfully good right now. You better fix me something quick before I tear into the first boot."

Amanda goes to the doorway to the mudroom. She picks up one of the boots and asks, "Isn't this Erik's boot? If his boot is here then…"

"If his boot is here he must have come back," Jason yells over his shoulder and heads out of the kitchen. His destination isn't hard to figure out and Amanda is right behind him. They are headed for the tree.

Two very disappointed children are standing looking at the decorated tree dismally as nothing is beneath it. Looking up at me with worry Amanda asks, "Jo I have been good haven't I? I mean, not bad enough to not get anything but a lump…" At this point she stops speaking to race to the fireplace where they must have hung their stockings before I came down. She grabs at the bottom with both hands and feels around for anything that might be in the bottom. Turning back around relief fills her voice as she informs us, "I don't have coal. Well actually I don't have anything. Do you suppose he came home to rest so he could finish his job?"

"Of course silly. He does have a hurt leg remember. I'll bet he could do it all in one trip if he didn't still have a limp." Jason is looking at me hopefully wanting me to confirm what he believes. He is of an age when the idea of a man going to so many homes to deliver toys in one night is becoming harder to believe with every year that passes.

"You know, I'll bet you're right. Why don't we all go into the kitchen, make breakfast, then see if Erik comes down once he smells everything cooking? If he doesn't come down maybe we can make him a tray and take it upstairs to him. After all, I think it is my duty as his wife to make sure he is fed and rested before continuing with all he has to get done."

I love sharing mornings like this and it would be perfect if Erik would come down to join us. Everything is just about ready and I have placed the last platter on the stove top to warm. I go out to check that the table is set. Just when I am about to go upstairs Erik comes down and even with my back to him I know he is standing just behind me waiting for me to turn around. I do so and nearly drop to the floor from shock.

It is terrible, horrible and I can't help but cry. Erik's poor face, his beautiful wonderful face has been shaved with not one whisker covering anything. I knew from what I had been able to see before that much worse must be hidden from view. His skin has a reddish cast to it on the right side. I could see it more clearly now that nothing hid him from me. The skin is thicker in some places than others. With his hair trimmed his other defects are more noticeable. The right eye droops just the tiniest bit. I want to go to him and draw him tightly against me. I fear that showing too much emotion will make him believe I am disturbed about his face. I am disturbed just not in the way he would imagine if I don't get myself under control.

Treating him as I normally would, will show him that it isn't his face I fell in love with, I did but it isn't all that draws me to Erik. I can't explain what it is about him to myself, so how can I explain it to anyone else? Even with the deformity Erik is a striking man. Having gotten my tears under control I hook my arm around his and as calmly as I can I ask, "Are you hungry? Jason is quite irritated with you for purloining his morning treat. If this was not Christmas Eve and he half believes you are Santa Claus you would be on his wrong side this morning."

We haven't taken but two steps when Erik halts abruptly nearly causing me to fall backwards. When I look enquiringly at him I can see he is looking upward. A large sprig of mistletoe is hanging on a beam just at the bottom of the stairs.

"Jason said it is customary to forfeit a kiss if one is standing under mistletoe. If I am not mistaken that is mistletoe is it not?" His innocent query doesn't fool me for a minute. Since he is the one to put it there he must know what it is and its significance. I'll play along with his game as after all it will benefit me as well.

"Well I don't suppose it would be right to not observe a custom. What sort of example would that be for the children? I must do all I can to impress newcomers such as yourself." I am surprised my tongue didn't trip over my embellished sense of pride in a custom I had never practiced before.

For the longest time we stare into one another's eyes until it begins to feel uncomfortable. Taking a step closer to Erik I hope this gives him the hint that I am only waiting for him to make a move before I do, well one could argue that I already made the first move.

Erik bends down his head to mine. I close my eyes anticipating one of those toe curling kisses he has given me before. Instead I feel his lips touch my cheek and then feel him pull away. When I open my eyes all I see is the back of Erik as he disappears behind the kitchen door. Well that isn't what I expected at all. I am all stirred up and have no way to expend my energy. I take heart in the fact that the house is nearly wall to wall mistletoe or more precisely beam to beam. I have a feeling I am in for a very interesting day. My step is lighter and I am sure if I looked down my feet would not be touching the floor.

The kitchen is the only place Erik seemed to miss decorating so I will not be lingering in there this morning. He missed the area around the tabvle as well. Just finishing my last bite of pancake I am ready to clear the dishes when Erik stands up reaching into his pocket and pulls out what had once been a healthy sprig of mistletoe. Now it was somewhat flat and lifeless. Despite that Erik comes around to stand behind me and taps me on the shoulder. When I look up at him he has that pitiful bit of greenery over my head. What could I do other than stand and offer my lips like a sacrificial lamb?

I think I am going to like this game Erik has invented. As the day progresses I have to confess that I deliberately stood beneath a sprig just so I could get a kiss. Amanda got into the spirit of things when she caught Erik standing unsuspectingly beneath one of his own sprigs. He bent down to accommodate the little lady. Flirting outrageously she curtsied deeply nearly toppling over. Erik caught himself before his laughter could burst forth ruining Amanda's bid at trying to be grown up. Bless her, she added a new rule to this business of kissing under the mistletoe. She said it was only fair she kiss his cheek just as he kissed hers. When he would have turned his left cheek to her she placed her hand on that cheek and turned his head so she could reach the right side of his face. Erik manfully kept his composure but had to turn away quickly before we could see the tears I am sure are on the verge of falling.

Tonight we both tuck the children in and Erik tells them the story of the first Christmas just as he promised, or perhaps threatened is a better word in Jason's case. I have to say I have never heard it told with such emotion. When I closed my eyes it was as if I were there among those shepherds and animals filling that stable on that most wondrous night known to man. Uncle Charlie told me that Erik has a sort of love hate relationship with God and I can understand why but listening to him retell the story of the birth of our savior I can hear the conviction and belief in his tone. It is not merely an oft repeated tale he is imparting to us but a story he truly believes in whether he will admit it or not. Erik is more a believer than he knows.

I can see by Erik's hesitation in coming closer to me that tonight will not go as I planned. It is just as well. I have gifts to place beneath the tree and I would imagine Erik does too. The children will be awake half the night due to overexcitement. It doesn't matter what time they fall asleep on Christmas Eve the morning of Christmas I think they beat the rooster's crow.

Saving us any awkward moments I tiptoe and kiss Erik chastely on his cheek. I have yet to make a comment on him shaving his beard and am rather proud of Jason and Amanda for not mentioning it either. I must say that they are becoming quite grownup when it comes to certain matters like the feelings of others for instance.

As soon as Erik closes his door I go into my room to retrieve the first armful of presents. I added a few gifts to what Uncle Charlie left for them. I didn't buy much but I did manage to sew a shirt for Jason and a new pinafore for Amanda. I also knitted them hats, a scarf and mittens from different colored yarn left over from various projects. They won't mind if they don't match because they know it is made with love. Tomorrow I hope that Erik will know how much he is loved also.

Once in my room a sudden weariness overcomes me. Perhaps I'll lie down for a bit then take the presents downstairs later. My bed looks so inviting with the coverlet turned down. My gown is placed ready for me to put it on and my slippers are beside the bed. Who could have come in and done that? I must be sure to comment on how much I appreciated the thoughtful gesture. I have settled and am drifting off to sleep when I begin to dream of Uncle Charlie, at least I think it is a dream. I hear him speaking as clearly as if he is right in front of me.

"Jo, Jo, Jo. What am I to do with you and Erik? Left to the two of you Jason and Amanda will be grown with children of their own before you and Erik produce one great-nephew or great-niece for me. Girl I thought I taught you better how to go after what you wanted. Well don't worry now. Old Uncle Charlie is here to see to things. Couldn't come before tonight, being dead and all."

Something that feels like a kiss brushes my cheek. When I open my eyes there is no one there. I must have been dreaming. I know Uncle Charlie couldn't have been here.

I notice the fire is going cold. I know I put wood on it before I slid under the covers and it was nice and toasty. What could have caused it to go out? Not liking the idea of getting out of my nice warm cozy bed I go over to the fireplace. Only a few coals are glowing beneath the wood I put on before going to bed. I could see the black on the bark where it had been burning. Reaching into the kindling box I find it empty. I know very well I filled it earlier today.

As dark as it is I can't make out much from the dim light of the coals. Running my hand along the mantle to find the box of matches I can find nothing there. Beginning to shiver now, I wonder if I should go in and sleep with Amanda. It is either sleep in her room or freeze in mine. I am almost to her door when I realize this is my perfect moment to join Erik in his bed. Surely he wouldn't turn me away and leave me to catch my death of a cold.

Well even if nothing happens at least I'll have one night to say I shared a bed with Erik.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven **

**An Angel's Visit **_**Erik **_

Leaning against my closed door I am aching with want in every part of me. I have half a mind to go back out there and…And what? Make a fool out of myself? I should have taken an opportunity to speak with Jo today. I don't like thinking of my past but dislike speaking of it even more. It is my own fault I am suffering now from frustration. If I had not cowardly avoided any in depth conversation with Jo then I could have gone to her with a clear conscience.

At least I had not backed out of my decision to let them know what was underneath all that hair on my face. I had even trimmed my shaggy hair. It is still longer than I wore it when I lived in Paris but not so long as to reach my shoulders. Once I had seen myself in the mirror I had almost lost my nerve. If I could barely stand my own face why should I expect others to do so?

I may have gone overboard on hanging the mistletoe but it had given me reason to taste Jo's lips once more without the pressure of whether or not she would welcome my lips upon hers. As the day had progressed I don't think I am being conceited to say Jo sought out places where sprigs I had hung would be directly over her head. Little Amanda had even joined in our game although I think her intentions were of a more innocent nature than what Jo and I had in mind.

My trip to my home earlier today had been very fruitful. Not only had I found the book I would give Jo as her gift from me but I also had been overcome with inspiration. I had sat down at my piano and composed such a passionate piece filled with all of what I felt for Jo. It still isn't perfect but it will suffice for my purpose. I have even penned words of love to express in word those emotions released in my music. I will save this gift for when we go to town to attend the Christmas Day service. I am sure all those romantic souls at church will not mind my using their house of God to declare how I feel about Jo. Maybe she already knows as I haven't been able to control myself around her. I can't help thinking that it may also please the great being above that I have released so much of the anger and hate that lived within me for so many years.

Tonight I know I will have trouble getting to sleep knowing Jo is just a short distance away and perhaps thinking the same thoughts I am. Lying in my bed instead of tossing and turning as I had expected a strange calm overcomes me and I find myself drifting off to sleep. Perhaps this is a good sign that I am more confident about the outcome of my confession to Jo when I nerve myself up to it.

Usually I have to fight off horror filled dreams but tonight I feel nothing but completely relaxed. A touch upon my chest feels more real than a dream but I cannot open my eyes. When I hear Charlie's voice I know I am dreaming and give in to what he is here to tell me. I have dreamed of him a few times since his death but cannot remember clearly what they were about.

"Erik you are such a foolish boy at times. You and Jo are trying my patience I must tell you. This perfect opportunity to get to know one another presents itself and the two of you dance around one another until I can see you both need an extra push. Now don't tell a soul but I did whisper in that little devil Jason's ear a time or two. Couldn't come to him like I am to you as it wasn't allowed. Rules are rules but they said nothing about talking to anyone while they slept. In my defence I think the rascal would have opened his yap anyway. Erik my boy you do have a load on your shoulders. Santa Claus? Now where do you suppose they picked up that notion? Guilty, on all counts."

I want to ask Charlie questions about the afterlife but am unable to say a word. He continues to chastise me in the same cross but friendly tone, "Erik my boy I understand your hesitance but good Lord what more do you need to be convinced that you and Jo are perfect for one another? She has all but thrown herself into your arms yet still you doubt yourself and her. Well don't you worry boy I have taken things in hand. If after tonight the two of you don't move past your doubts I wash my hands of the whole mess. I spent too many of my last days watching the two of you muck things up and I will not spend my eternity in the same vein. Tonight is my last attempt to bring you together. What happens next is up to the two of you. Just know Erik that you have my blessing. I know all you have done and all that has been done to you. Do right by my Jo and the children or the next time I come back it won't be pleasant for you. Truth be told I can't come back until next Christmas if needed, some nonsense about rules being followed. Who would ever believe they even have rules in heaven? I have every confidence in you dear boy. All you need is a little bit of belief in yourself."

Once more I feel a light touch on my chest then whatever has kept me from waking is lifted. My eyes come open slowly and peering around I see nothing that shouldn't be in the room. What had I expected? Charlie's visit was only a dream, wasn't it? It seemed so real but logically that's all it could be. All I see are dancing shadows from the light of the dying fire. It will be getting colder soon but I am too lazy to get up and add a log to the fire. I don't even mind the dimming light. For most of my life I lived in near darkness.

A tap at my door draws my attention toward the other side of the room. The door is opening and Jo's head pops around the wood panel. I can see her but not clearly in the fading light. Now I wish I had stoked the fire.

"Erik my fire has gone out and I can't seem to find my matches to try to get it relit. Something happened to the kindling I put in the box this morning. There isn't a single stick left. Can I…would you mind if I come in here with you to get warm?"

Come into bed with me? Lie next to me? Is she insane? I can't have her lying here wearing that gown of temptation. I will be a babbling idiot by morning to have her that close and not touch her. Contrary to what I am thinking I hear my voice saying, "Of course." I am lifting the covers and sliding over without having any conscious knowledge of doing so.

As she climbs into bed the creaking of the springs fills my head with images best left in the darker recesses of my mind. My whole body stiffens when I feel her settle alongside me. We are not touching but I still can feel her in every pore and with every nerve. Her wiggling to get comfortable is nearly my undoing. At last she stills and all is quiet. After a short time the silence is ended by a timid voice enquiring, "Erik would you mind if I snuggle up against you? I am so cold. I can't seem to get warm."

Dear God, are you testing me? Well I am here to tell you this is a test I will fail and not give a damn. Again I speak without really considering what I am saying or what this means, "Of course. It is rather cold isn't it?"

Cold? I feel as if a fire is burning inside of me. I am sure I am perspiring from every pore. Feeling her soft hand slide across my middle turns the fire into a blaze. If I harden any more I shall likely explode from the pressure. When she snuggles her nose into my shoulder I have to swallow a groan.

For a few moments I am granted the time without movement or words so that I can get a grip on my runaway emotions. Feeling the slide of her palm circling over my stomach returns my manhood to full attention. Swallowing at this point is impossible. I may choke or expire from the intensity of what I am feeling. Nearly growling I warn her, "Jo I shall warn you this one time. Stop doing…well stop doing what you are doing. To continue is to invite actions on my part that you may not intend to have me do."

I have not been very clear but hope she knows of what I speak. I can feel her hand push against me as she raises up to hover over me. I cannot see her clearly but when she speaks it is not necessary for me to read her facial expression for I can read the teasing in her tone as she asks, "Doing what precisely Erik? You mean if I do this you may have to retaliate?" My breathing stops altogether when I feel her lips at the opening of my shirt. Her fingers only fumble a little as she unbuttons one then another until the shirt gapes open.

Death I am sure is coming for me as I feel her lips kiss over the skin she has exposed. Her next question is guaranteed to push me over the edge and she has no clue how close to danger she is as her teasing continues in the same vein but in a lower more seductive tone, one I would not have associated with someone as innocent as I believe her to be.

"If I were to say, kiss your ear like this it would offend you?" She proceeds to nibble my ear and sooth it with her tongue after she takes little nips at the lobe. My lower body is primed to act in a crude manner if something does not appease the beast she is awakening.

"I guess if I were to do something so outrageous as to trail my hand down…" Here is the point where I grab her hand as she is dangerously near the beast ready to devour any and all maidens in his reach. I have been tempted beyond my capability to stop what will happen next. Lust has me in its grasp and only claiming Jo will appease the beast enough to quiet his need to conquer demanding complete surrender.

This is all new to me and despite my age I am no more enlightened than Jo how things work or what I am supposed to do. Of course I know the anatomy of women and men and thus know how we fit together but not the intricacies of what should take place between two lovers so they both reach fulfillment. In frustration and fear of putting her off any future closeness I confess in strangled tones, "Jo I have never…this is new to me. A woman has never shared with me what I want with you. I don't know what to do. Am I now so pathetic in your eyes you no longer desire me?"

Despair takes the place of any desire I had been feeling when silence is my only answer. I am ready to climb out of bed and hurl myself from the window. As a suicidal attempt it would be less than affective as I'd likely only break a few bones but the damage to my manhood would be crippling.

"Erik I don't know spit about what goes on between men and women. You are the first man to kiss me and truthfully I don't think I ever wanted anyone but you to kiss me. As for the other stuff, well, I suppose we'll learn together just like everyone else in the world. If what I feel when you kiss me is only a small glimpse of what comes later I don't know if I'll survive but I am more than willing to find out."

She has gone quiet and I begin to think she may have fallen asleep as odd as that would be at a time like this. When she speaks again I realize she was only thinking. Her request to light a candle so she may see me, shocks me to that my mind is a jumble of disconnected words not making any sense.

"Erik don't think of me as being brazen but I want to see you during…well it is my first time and I want…don't you think it would be helpful to see one another…just to be sure we are…" Burying her face in my chest she mumbles, "Never mind. Forget I said anything. I am a wanton and will use any excuse to steal a look at you. I must confess that while I tended to you…well not all my ministrations were pure of heart. Do you realize how hard it was to tend to you knowing that only a sheet stood between your flesh and my eyes? How I managed not to take advantage more than I did is still not something I want to examine too closely."

I am shocked, no, more than shocked. I am speechless. She coveted me? I tested her ability to tend me without letting her desires for me getting out of hand? I want to shout to the world that Erik the former monster, the Opera Ghost and Phantom has awakened the desires of one Josephine Grayson, nay, Josephine Delacroix. Pathetic soul that I have always been it is I who have drawn her gaze, not some handsome man of title or lineage dating back to creation.

I can't speak but I can show her how I feel. Reaching to the bedside, I light a candle adding to the dim light from the fireplace. Had I known I would be having Jo in my bed I would have made certain the fire was ablaze. As it is the room for now is warm but likely not to stay that way until morning unless I add more wood to stoke the fire. At the moment I am more concerned with my own inner fire.

Jo's eyes have taken on a luminescent quality in the light. Grasping my head between her hands she encourages me to take what she is offering. I need no further proof of her willingness to have me touch her. Our lips meet with tender invitation at first and slowly our kisses become brands of heat wherever we touch.

We fumble as we explore one another. Neither of us are sure of what we are doing but it doesn't matter because every touch is filled with love and longing. I unbutton her gown but go no further. A woman's breasts have always held a certain fascination for me. I suppose it could have something to do with never having been nurtured as a child although in my later years my interest had nothing to do with that and everything to do with a burgeoning libido.

I am a lucky man to have such an adventurous woman as my wife for Jo boldy guides my hand to her just as I longed to do. Jo fit nicely into the palm of my hand. I am gratified when I hear a hum then she arches her back. Fisting her hand in my hair she drags my head down to her breast. I have seen other men do this to women at the opera house and know it gives pleasure. Opening my mouth I suckle and run my tongue over the hardening peak. Already stimulated to the point of release this brings me even closer to the inevitable conclusion. I don't want to shame myself or take Jo with force. Pain is inevitable but it can be made more bearable if I can manage to stave off my inner beast urging me to take her quickly with hard fast thrusts.

"Jo I can't hold off much longer. I will try…Oh God but you are so perfect and beautiful you test my control. Please forgive me if I hurt you. If you need me to stop please tell me." I hope I can live up to my promise to ease into her. I have heard men lose control for a time during such moments.

"The last thing I want Erik is for you to stop. If anything I am wondering what is taking you so long. I am on the brink of something, some precipice I want to plummet over very much. Should we not…wouldn't it be easier…Darn it Erik, must I always be the brazen one? Should we not have fewer clothes on?"

She is not really angry, only frustrated, as am I. Without another word she pulls at my night shirt until my arms are free. She takes the time to touch me in ways sure to raise my interest. Mimicking what I did to her breasts she takes me in her mouth. I feel the jolt all the way to my manhood. My hands begin to tremble as I explore her more fully. What I touched before is nothing compared to the rest of her. The seat of her womanhood is only inches away from where I have paused to take in her glowing flesh.

"Shouldn't you…may I remove your…your trousers?" Her voice is lowered and filled with what I believe is passion. It is what gives my own voice a lower timbre when I reply, "If that is your wish." The slow process she makes of removing my last article of clothing is killing me. Her hand circles around my throbbing flesh as it responds of its own accord to her closeness. I want more than anything to feel her hand on me. No, that is not true. More than anything I want to feel her pulsing around me when I enter her. I want to fill her until I can go no further.

If she continues in this pursuit of discovery everything will be over for me. I must have her now. Pulling at the cloth of her gown I work it up until I reach the hem. Grabbing at that frantically, I pull it off over her head with more haste than finesse. At last she is bare from head to toe. I would very much like to drink in every inch of her but it is urgent for me to claim her while I still have a little control. This time will be quick and likely not bring her anything but pain. As I nudge her knees apart I vow to take better care of her later. I will do my best to please her but fear I am too far gone to last more than a few gut wrenching thrusts. As I struggle to ease into her I beg her forgiveness and cry out from the sheer ecstasy of having her around my hard flesh in this way. I begin to move gritting my teeth and clenching my jaw hoping I can stave off the tide I feel rushing to be set free.

'I am sorry Jo. So sorry. I can't…too late…it is too late to give you what you deserve." I am nearly in tears with a mixture of gratitude and shame. Even in this I cannot be a man. I am weak and selfish. With a groan I cannot keep from leaving my mouth I spill hotly into her. Every muscle locks in place for mere seconds as pure heat coarses along my nerve endings. As my seed leaves my body it as if life is draining from me with every thrust I make. When the last fierce wave of pleasure soothes into guiet calm it is as if I have drained of all energy. I can do nothing but collaps weakly against her.

Tightly she wraps her arms and legs around me as she runs her hand soothingly over my hair and shoulders whispering in my ear, "You have nothing to be sorry for Erik. Nothing at all. Will you not make love to me again? Is this to be our one and only intimate moment? You were the perfect lover for my first time. I felt nothing but love and caring when we came together. I will remember tonight and this moment as one of our most precious firsts. You Erik are my first love and will be my last. I…I love you."

Her words are more than I expect and more than I deserve. As all she has said sinks in I try to be sure I have not imagined her last words, the most important words in any language as far as I am concerned at present. Did she just…surely I am mistaken. I must have her clarify if I heard her correctly.

"Did you…have I heard…what did you…" My perfect woman rescues me before I twist myself into verbal knots as she reaches up to silence me with a kiss.

"Erik please listen carefully and take mental notes. I may quiz you later. I, Josephine Delacroix, love you Erik Delacroix above all others and will until my dying day."

Not since Christine have I uttered words of love. Such a situation had not come up and really I had not thought one would. After such agony I had given up on love and happily ever after. Jo has given me new life. I feel reborn as if my old self has died and been resurrected into this much better person.

Pulling her fiercely to me I declare half sobbing, "You Jo have brought me back to the land of the living. Until I met you I was not living at all. You showed me what it is to love and be with family. For that alone I shall worship at your feet. You give me so much more, more than I can express in mere words but I hope in the near future to be able to make you see just how much you mean to me. I love you Josephine Delacroix."

Words after that were unnecessary. This time when I claimed Jo I am happy to say I gave her fair repayment in kind for what she gave me during our first time together physically. Having slacked my lust allowed me to bring Jo to the same precipice I had dropped off of earlier. It is not easy to keep myself from rushing toward fulfillment a second time as I know what a joyous journey it is and how climatic its end. I rather enjoy taking my time learning what places are more sensually inclined than others. I tried not to become overly enthralled by her womanhood but I can say honestly that next to her luscious breasts it is the place which holds me fascinated more than any other. Everything about her I find captivating. There is a place that when I touch it Jo responds much as I did when she at last had the nerve to touch my manhood. I would not have imagined such a small thing could bring about such trembling and shaking in ones limbs. I want to watch Jo's face as she reaches her plateau but with her urging me to enter her and wrapping her legs about me my focus is distracted by my own climb to ecstasy.

"Oh Erik you feel…you make me feel so wonderful. I feel all aquiver and every nerve is alive with sensation. Is this what you feel? Will it be like this every time?"

With every thrust I feel my control ebbing. I must wait until I feel her inner walls gripping at me and hear her uncontrolled cries as she comes to completion.

"Oh God Erik…I…what is this? I feel as if I am falling apart, shattering from all I am experiencing. More Erik…I need more of you."

Her words unbind the last thin string keeping me from showing her no mercy. She has unleashed the beast and he shall have all of her and give her all of him. Both of us are thrashing wildly. I thrust deeply inside of her and she lifts her hips to bring me even deeper into her waiting flesh. I am coated with the sweat of passions pursuit and find Jo's skin salty from her own lustful journey.

Our movements are not gentle or restrained. We pant in unison with every meeting and parting of our bodies. I feel her clawing at my back but cannot bring myself to care. I know she is marking me because of what I am doing to her and what she is experiencing. We nip at one another leaving our marks that will last for days as testament to all that we have shared this night. One last hard thrust and I am plummeting back to earth just as Jo cries out at her release. I am so weak I cannot move. I have just enough strength to slide myself to her side so as not to crush her.

I don't want to remove myself from her and she must feel the same for she clutches at me to stay my movements. Knowing I still have much to do downstairs I must think of getting out of bed. If I had known I'd be visited by an angel tonight I would have placed all the presents under the tree before coming up to bed.

I'll only close my eyes for a moment then tackle the job of delivering the presents. Before I am fully asleep I recall my dream just before Jo came to my room. Had it been a dream or had I indeed been visited by an angel?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Merry Christmas everyone. Last chapter. Please give me lots of reviews. It is Christmas. I hope my little gift has made you laugh and given you a few hours of entertainment. **

**For this chapter I tried to write a song but believe me I am no song writer. Poor Erik is stuck with what I gave him. Just try to pretend it is the greatest ballad you have ever heard even if it stinks like limburger cheese. **

**Chapter Twelve **

**An Angel's Message **_**Jo**_

I don't want to wake from my lovely dream. Lying on my stomach I feel a heavy weight on my back. A moment later I feel a butterfly touch with only a slight rasp of something rough. With my hand I search beside me and come into contact with warm muscled flesh. Investigating further is my intention as I move from one area to another. A low growl reaches my ear when my hand comes too close to a place I know is especially sensitive to the owner of the growl.

"Any more of that and you will wake the beast again. He is a selfish greedy soul with only one thing on his mind."

Rolling over I teasingly retort, "What if I tell you I like selfish greedy beasts? What if there is a similar beast within me, one who only has one thing on her mind?"

Taking my hands and loosely holding them above my head he leans his chest across mine and throws his leg over mine as he returns my teasing, "I'd say the beast is a lucky fellow and will do all he can to make his lady a happy beast as well."

Our kiss is sweet at first then builds into a familiar firestorm. A simple touch can cause such amazing reactions when given by someone special in a certain way. As much as I'd like to carry on with this I must put a stop to it as the children will be waking soon. The clock on the bedside shows me that it is already five o'clock. Usually we would lie in bed for another hour or maybe two on a normal Sunday but today is Christmas. There are presents waiting and breakfast to be gotten through then off to church for an hour of worship then afterward home to enjoy the rest of the day in any way we wish.

"I want nothing more than to continue but really we should stop. You may not know this but on Christmas morning children become the early birds. The off chance of receiving a gift is an incentive they can't resist. If we don't go down they'll think nothing of coming up to roust us out of our bed. Wouldn't they be surprised when they didn't find me snug in my own bed?"

"Surprised? Amanda maybe but I'm not so sure about Jason. I believe he is a lothario in the making. I want nothing more just now than to stay in this bed and take us both to the heavens but as you say it is Christmas Day and what sort of Santa Claus would I be if there were no presents under the tree?"

As I slip from the bed the cold hits me full force. I can feel my nipples hardening. Dull-witted at this early hour I forgot that I have not a stitch on. I let out what would have been a shriek had I not remembered the children resided just a door down the hall. I cross my arms over my chest hoping to save myself some embarrassment. I realize how inadequate my attempt to cover my charms when Erik's eyes drop down to peruse what I have not been mindful to cover. A grin is slowly spreading across his lips showing his straight white teeth. For a moment he looks like a wolf anticipating his next meal. Could he at least pretend to have shame?

"Erik, you sir are no gentleman." Slipping back into bed with him negates any notion I am angry with him. I am not so bold as to prance around naked for his pleasure but if he takes a voyeuristic glance now and then I have to say I won't mind. To further prove he is not in disfavor with me I lean down and tease a path over his face with my lips.

Our coming together is swift, hard and powerful. We know we will have time later to take things slowly the next time. For now reaching a climax is what is driving us with such frenzy. Once passion has abated I get out of bed on my side and Erik gets out on his side. Distance is the only determent as we are still in the budding stage of our romance. Even if a hundred years shall pass I believe I will feel the same then as I do now. I will always want Erik and believe he will want me just as much.

Tonight I know he will tell what he needs to reveal to me. I think he is an honorable man, at least to me he has proven himself to be one. As a man of honor he won't gloss over the parts of his past he would rather not have me know. He has told me he wishes for me to really know him so that I may make an informed choice of whether or not to stay with him. My heart already knows that I cannot live without him. My body may still have life but my soul would die and shrivel without my Erik to feed my inner selfl with the power of his presence. It is a great responsibility I have placed on his shoulders but I know he is worthy of the task.

Erik is dressed first and slips quietly out to retrieve whatever presents he has hidden about the house. My own are hidden under my bed. As Jason and Amanda still have a childish fear of what lurks underneath a bed it is the only safe place to hide anything I do not wish for little prying eyes to see. As I pull out the wrapped packages I feel excitement coursing through me. It is the same every Christmas but especially this year I feel it even more. So much has changed for me, Jason and Amanda and Erik of course. When I stand and turn around the wooden box I use to hold kindling that had been empty last night is now full. Going over to the fireplace I can see my box of matches sitting there as they should be.

As I am about to leave something makes me pause. I feel a light touch upon my cheek. I swear I can smell Uncle Charlie's pipe tobacco. He hasn't been in the house to smoke for a long time and yet I smell it all around me. My dream comes back to me and I know that somehow he had come back to pay me a visit.

Feeling silly I nonetheless whisper an "I love you" just before I leave my room. This Christmas couldn't be more perfect if I had sat down and planned it out in detail. I can see Erik has paid a visit already as there are several packages under the tree that weren't there last night. I don't care if it is childish or not I riffle through the stack of presents until I find one with my name on it. It is square and heavy. My spirits plummet a little when I guess that this must be a book. Now I have nothing against books and it can be romantic to receive one if it is about romance or romantic poems. I had just expected something…well I am not certain what I expected just not a book. Because it is from Erik naturally I shall treasure it. I mustn't let him see my disappointment and really I shouldn't be feeling this way. A gift is special no matter if it is something you need or want and not something silly and romantic. It is a gift from the heart at least in most cases.

I have hardly placed the package back under the tree when Amanda comes flying down the stairs followed by Jason trying to act more grownup when I know all he wants to do is dive for the nearest present. I manage to curb their demand to begin opening presents until Erik has come down. When he does he has stolen my breath and I feel faint. No man has a right to look so handsome and perfectly turned out as he does when it is barely six o'clock. I feel frumpy in my one and only Sunday dress. I will be visiting the general store and inquiring about some cloth for a few new dresses. I feel the need to be more feminine.

Amanda gives me a kiss for her doll but the little carved figurines from Erik with moveable parts are more to her liking. The doll house with intricately detailed furniture and accessories probably would win the heart of any little girl. I do feel an urge to play doll house myself. For Jason Erik had carved a horse with a little replica of himself atop of it. Erik had given Jason an army officer's jacket with a sword drawn ready to do battle. Jason's figure is removable and has moving parts as well. Now I know what Erik did with all those bolts, screws and nails.

I can see Erik is hard pressed to contain his own excitement as a pile of presents are placed in front of him. His face is alight with such joy as he opens them one by one and shows great appreciation for each one. Amanda drew him a family portrait. It wasn't perfect but it was her way of showing Erik we are now one family. He is as much a part of it as the rest of us. Hidden in the picture so that it can only be seen by the discerning eye is a man dressed all in red with white fur trim peeking out from behind the chimney of the house in the background. To save Erik's feelings she had not colored his right cheek the angry red color we know it is. He will treasure this picture I am sure.

Jason had taken a discarded coffee tin and covered it with a piece of softened deer hide. He had used a nail to poke holes in the top. In each hole he had placed a paint brush or pen. The brushes and pen were his but he must care for Erik very much to part with them. I can tell Erik would rather have these simple gifts from the children than something costing more in coin than in love.

When he opens my gift to him for a few seconds all he does is run his hand over the silk of the robe and scarf. Using his finger he traces over the initials I had embroidered. Carefully he lays everything to the side then stands so he can come to me. Grasping my hands he pulls me up and brings me close enough for a deep kiss. There is nothing sexual in this kiss. It is a kiss of such purity and love I am nearly brought to tears.

Releasing me he whispers, "Thank you Jo. No one has ever given me a gift before and to receive such perfect ones as I have today is something I shall remember always." He reaches out with his right hand inviting Amanda and Jason into his arms to share in our embrace. We allow a few quiet moments to pass then go to prepare a meal as a family. Our meal was happily consumed with conversations about our gifts and what we will do once we return home. From the glint in Erik's eye I can expect to be lured back into his bedroom long before dark.

After clearing away Jason and Erik go out to hitch the horse to the wagon. I still feel a little disappointed but have to say the book is lovely. The deep burgundy leather cover must be very expensive and the book as well. Not many people can afford such a lasting treasure. It is something I can pass on to my children. The thought of carrying Erik's child warms my heart. I want his child but wouldn't mind having him to myself before I must devote so much time to an infant. Jason and Amanda take up a lot of my time but they are able to do much for themselves and will continue to do more with age.

The churchyard is filled with people and carriages, buggies and buckboards as well as a few lone horses at the hitching post. More are arriving even as we come to a stop. The church will be filled to bursting today. It always is the same. People who don't come to church at any other time of the year come for the Christmas service. Our dear reverend is wise enough to know that whatever day Christmas falls on the Christmas service is held on that day even if it is not Sunday.

We manage to find our usual seats are still empty. Most of us have particular seats we sort of laid claim to even though everyone can sit wherever they wish. Habits are hard to break and this one is comfortable and familiar. Uncle Charlie had sat in this pew with me for years and then with Jason and Amanda. A couple of times Uncle Charlie had cajoled Erik into coming and sitting with us. I feel as if Uncle Charlie is sitting with us today especially after my dream last night.

The service is beautiful as usual. Reverend Farnsworth is wise to keep repeating this same message every year at this time. It has become a sort of tradition along with asking at the end of the service if anyone would care to share a blessing they received. I was puzzled as we sang hymns Erik did not so much as let out a peep. I know his voice is nothing to be ashamed of and he did not sound hoarse or ill this morning, far from it.

Curiously after the last prayer was said and we were being dismissed Erik stepped forward and leaned in to whisper something in Reverend Farnsworth's ear. It must have been something agreeable as he smiled broadly and patted Erik on the shoulder. Raising his hands he draws everyone's attention when he calls out, "Praise be, Erik has requested that he play the piano and will also be treating us to a song, one he wrote especially for his wife Jo. All you romantic's out there will want to stay and listen to this and everyone else will stay because we know how heavenly he sounds."

I am caught in Erik's fiery green gaze. He has written a song for me and is going to play and sing, for me? I am overwhelmed to say the least. Feeling giddy I plop down on the pew. The buzz of voices quiets around me as Erik takes the piano bench. He makes some adjustments then takes out some sheets of paper from his inner pocket and places them in front of him on the piano. Cocking his ear he plays a few keys and grimaces as the piano is slightly out of tune and the man who tunes it is not due for another two months. I have a feeling Erik could tune the piano with his eyes closed.

When all is quiet Erik begins to play a hauntingly beautiful tune. The notes are at first soft and sweet just as his words are. He is telling me of his love in a song. In front of God and the congregation he declares I am his saving grace, his redemption for earthly sins. His words tell of how I gave him reason to believe not only in himself but in God once more. Whatever in his past filled him with despair he found relief in me. I want to shout "Erik my love, we saved each other. Without you I could not be complete. I would go on but as an empty shell." I want him to know this and I will tell him later. For now I will sit and drink the pure magic of his voice and the music he is playing on an old broken down out of tune piano but nothing has ever sounded so sweet to me.

_**Once a broken lost soul drifting on the tide of life cast out to sea left to sink in misery until a light came to lead me home. Darkness claimed me until she came to me. She set me free now I am the man I was meant to be. **_

_She is my light, my hope, my love. She is my everything. My light will always lead me home. _

_**No more darkness tearing at my soul no more fear of being alone. It is for her my sins I will atone. Safe in her loving arms is where I long to be, holding tight she will never let me go. Without her hell on earth is all I would know. **_

_She is my light, my hope, my love. She is my everything. My light will always lead me home. _

**I can face the future where before I could only see despair. Now I know she will always be there. Her love lifts me higher than I have ever been before. She has set me free, there will be no chains holding me down anymore. **

_She is my light, my hope, my love. She is my everything. My light will always lead me home._

As Erik's voice drifts into silence he continues to play. Each note feels like a touch on my skin. Every nerve is thrumming and my heart has taken on the rhythm of the notes. If this continues much longer I fear I may do something not fit to be done under God's roof.

The last tinkle has gone silent and still no one makes a noise. We are spellbound and need time to recover. I am not the only one affected by Erik's performance. I can see women and a few men wiping at their eyes and blowing there noses. I am proud to have Erik share my gift with everyone but also I am selfish enough to be glad he will be going home with me.

Erik is surrounded by everyone wanting to give him praise. I can see the determined choir master speaking to Erik. Before he knows what hit him Erik will be leading the choir every Sunday or at least those Sundays we can make it to town. I have a feeling that we will come more often. Erik must miss playing his piano at home. Maybe now that he is well we should think about moving into his home. We are comfortable in Uncle Charlie's home but perhaps Erik would like for us to live in his house with his things. It doesn't matter to me as long as Erik and the children are there with me.

The last to thump Erik's back and bless him have finally left so that we can now head home. Erik had not seemed nervous when he sang and played but now that he is closer to me I can see the sheen of perspiration on his upper lip. When I take his arm I can feel him trembling. It hadn't occurred to my until this minute that Erik may not yet be used to so many people in close proximity for any length of time. He is alright if it is a few people with a quick hello or goodbye. He braved this for me, yet another reason to love him, as if I needed anything else.

The conversation on the way home is sparse as the children are tired from their early morning and Erik is still recovering from his ordeal while I am content just to admire my handsome husband as he holds the reins in his capable hands. As soon as we pull into the yard Jason jumps down then helps Amanda from the back. Erik insists he is recovered enough to lift me down. Hesitantly I place my hands on his shoulders. He is looking up at me steadily. What I see there in his face nearly stops my breathing. If I had any last reservations about Erik's total commitment to me after today and at this instant there is no room for any reservations.

For the rest of the day I drift on a cloud. Erik and I sat quietly by the fire. I read my book and quit honestly I think Erik only pretended to be interested in his as he constantly leaned over to nibble at my neck or my ear. He ran his finger over the back of my hand and then up over my arm causing me to shiver and break out in gooseflesh. I know he is deliberately trying to distract me as I caught the sensual tug at the corner of his mouth as I snuck a peek out of the corner of my eye. Knowing I'll not be able to hold him off much longer I feel now would be a good time for us to have our talk. The children have gone upstairs and all is peaceful. It is just the two of us. He can speak freely without fear of interruption or of someone overhearing him.

Snapping my book closed decisively I turn to him and say, "Erik I do believe we are due for a talk. You have things you wish to get off your mind and I want to hear about them. I'll sit here quietly and not interrupt. This may be your one chance to speak without me adding my two cents so you had better take advantage while you can."

Erik has ceased to move and I fear he may even be holding his breath. Surely what he is to impart isn't so awful it causes him this much stress? He begins hesitantly at first then the words seem to come forth in a tidal wave as he imparts all he can remember of his life and much I am certain he would rather have forgotten. What he tells me brings me to tears as well as indignation for how everyone treated him.

He speaks highly of this Madame Giry person and rather too fondly of that Christine Daaé person. This must be the infamous Christine of his delirium. All he speaks of her gives me the impression she led a very sheltered life despite growing up in an environment that is usually of loose morals.

Shame fills his voice as he speaks about his duplicitous actions toward the very young Christine. There is enough blame to go round for all that took place. She may have been innocent but all girls grow out of their childhood fantasies sooner or later. Her adoptive mother, this Madame Giry, may have contributed to her continued belief or pretense to believe in the Angel of Music. Perhaps the woman hoped that a soul of such purity would save Erik from himself.

It is hard to imagine him as the cold hearted person he describes. Clearly he is repentant for all he did. The person he described has no resemblance to who Erik is now. If he still had any of those old urges to destroy all around him if everyone did not do his bidding I would pack our bags and be gone before another sunrise. The truth of the matter is that Erik is…well simply Erik, the man I love and the man who has shone me nothing but gentleness and consideration. Yes, at first he was difficult but then so was I.

When he has been silent for a minute or two I grasp his hands in mine. He raises his head and it breaks my heart to see so much grief contained in one person. Erik has made others suffer but none so much as he has made himself suffer. It is time for him to know he has shed enough tears and ask for God's forgiveness and to forgive himself.

"Erik, I love you. Nothing can change that. The person you spoke of is not the person we know. That man is some stranger. That man would not have gone out into a blizzard to keep a promise he made to a dying man. He would not have even made such a promise."

He is listening but I can still see doubt clouding his green eyes so I continue as I implore him, "Erik would that man have let two children carry on in their belief that he is Santa Claus? Would he have let bible thumping Christians force him into taking on a wife and her sister and brother? Would he have not laughed then burned the church to the ground? Erik my love would that man have set foot inside a house of worship and sang so gloriously about redemption and love? You Erik are no longer that man. You are Erik Delacroix, a man with a family that will love him for as long as he walks among them and then into the great beyond."

Still he is uncertain so I will show him in the only way I am sure will convince him of what he means to me. Giving him no time to protest if that indeed would be his response, which I doubt, I lean forward and kiss him deeply without any restraint. I let my lips and hands tell him of what I am seeking. I am Jezebel luring my man into my wanton clutches.

"Let us go upstairs Erik. I want more than can be accommodated on the settee." I kiss him even as I am speaking. It is as if I cannot bear to part for even that short span of time. Erik's response is all I could hope for it to be. He scoops me up into his powerful arms then heads for the stairs. I want to protest but fear hurting his manly pride. When we reach the top of the stairs and are at the door to his bedroom, now ours, I sigh in relief. Without letting me down he leans over and opens the door. He does not even pause in his stride once the door is closed. We are at the bed and I am being gently deposited on the coverlet.

Erik stands before me waiting I suppose to see what boldness will now be forthcoming. He cocks his brow and a smile tugs at his mouth. He is doubting that I have the courage of my convictions. Well he had best learn I am nothing if not one willing to go boldly forward especially when I know just what waits for me at the end of my quest.

Keeping my face devoid of any expression is very hard to do with Erik standing over me like a hungry animal about to pounce. He is hungry right enough but not for food. With an innocent look on my face I begin to undo my buttons one at a time. My dress may not be silk or some other slithery seductive material but as my fingers work free the buttons Erik's face suffuses with color and his eyes darken to an even more brilliant green. I don't have the nerve to look down to see if he has a more visible reaction to my teasing.

It is my intention to slowly remove my clothing but apparently Erik has other ideas. I am standing naked in short order and Erik as well has discarded his clothing without me being aware of it. Perhaps that is because my attention had been focused on smooth skin and hard muscles. I know for sure my hands were engaged in a close study of his form. We are still not well learned in the art of love but we know enough to have us at fever pitch without much effort. I want this time to be for Erik's benefit. He will know for certain that I see him as a man and only as a man, one I adore and lust after wholeheartedly.

When he would have laid me back I stay him with my hands on his chest. Pushing on him slightly he gives way and allows me to have my way. My body may be redder than a woodpecker's feathers but I'll not let shyness deter me. Kissing Erik on his lips I run my tongue over them and he is quick to open his mouth. When I nibble his bottom lip he grasps me by my waist and drags me across his chest. I can feel the rasp of his chest hair on my breasts. I can feel my nipples harden and the jolt of sensation all the way to where Erik taught me is more sensitive and responsive to touch. Without him touching me I can feel the pooling of my feminine response to him.

I don't leave out one inch of his skin when kissing his firm flesh. His groan when I take his male nipple into my mouth fuels my own passion. Slowly I work my way down his body to the place where his manhood is hard and twitching with every touch upon his flesh. Daringly I kiss my way closer to that hard shaft wondering if I dare taste him or if he would think me perverted. Perhaps this time is not the time for such things. When we are more sure of one another we can explore the different ways that we can make love. For now what we have already done has my head spinning and my body ready to go up in flames.

I must have taken Erik too close to the flames for he groans pulling me up and straddles me over him. He is not asking but demanding that I take him in and I have to say I am eager to have him fill me. Rather clumsily I fumble but manage to work things so he is within me before his passion could come to an abrupt end.

There is no pain this time. It is still a new sensation to be filled this way but one I feel I will like very much. Tentatively I move bringing forth another groan which someone might mistake for a cry of agony. I pray the children remain sleeping for I don't have the heart to shush Erik. It is gratifying to know it is because of me he has lost control and does not care who knows it.

"God Jo you are going to kill me. One touch from you and I am ready to spill within seconds." He must not mind for he places his hands on either side of my hips and guides me in a rhythm guaranteed to bring us both over the edge. My control by now has slipped and I have to bite my lip to keep back my cries as wave after wave washes over me. With one last frantic push upward Erik releases into me and I am right behind him. The ripples afterward leave me quivering inside. I can feel my womanhood pulsating around Erik's now flaccid flesh. All I have strength to do is drop onto his chest limp as a rag doll.

Later I am able to tell Erik in words what he needs to hear most. I suppose my complete acceptance of him without any reservations is the best gift I could give to him on this day which represents rebirth, salvation, and forgiveness and most of all love. Erik has all of this and more.

Outside there in the darkness a light is glowing where no light should be. The light takes form of an old man. He is looking up at the window where Jo and Erik are now sleeping peacefully in one another's arms.

"Well Jo I have done what I came to do. You'll be safe in Erik's hands. He'll be able to curb that little devil Jason right enough. That angel Amanda will have him eating out of her hand like as not. My one regret in all of this is that I'll not be around to see your children, lest wise not personally but be assured I'll be watching over you all and come Christmastime I may pay a visit. Until then Jo I leave you in Erik's capable hands."

The man's form became diffused light that faded away until not a single ray could be seen. He had left a house filled with love and many years of joy to come. No phantom or opera ghost would ever haunt the man Erik had become. Family gave him the courage to leave all the old baggage safely locked away in the past where it belonged.

Peace on earth goodwill toward men. May you all have the merriest of Christmas'.


End file.
